


The Importance of Reading Clouds

by krystian



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Angst, Animal Death, Attempt at Humor, Background Relationships, Blood, Domestic, Established Relationship, F/M, Families of Choice, Fluff, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, One Shot Collection, Slice of Life, Violence, Vomiting, they're not even haikyuu characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22738762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krystian/pseuds/krystian
Summary: One city, yet it houses the tales of a multitude of people, depicting their lives as they struggle and learn to find their own ways, as they make friends and enemies, as they conjure forth creatures that shouldn’t be conjured or adopt beings that are probably not advised to be adopted.Tokyo is a place for anyone; no matter how deranged you may look or how bad you are at casting spells. Just try your luck and you might get rewarded.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 59





	1. February: The Devil, Temperance and Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tendou and Ushijima find an abandoned cub of some kind.
> 
> Will they keep it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've found out i like to write fanfiction when i am stressed as a coping mechanism. 
> 
> all chapters will be like, one-shots. it's the same setting and sometimes the characters know each other but that's it. so you dont really need to read every chapter if it doesnt interest you
> 
> this work was inspired by multiple others, namely:  
> [DragonQuest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15479916) by crocustongues  
> [Lullaby of Woe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21747859) by KenjiroS  
> [Moth & Flame](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8105731) by ChosenOfKagami  
> [How to get away with murder](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10815291/chapters/23994612) by Nerdqueenofthepumpkins
> 
> all of those are wonderful works, so if you wanna read something really good and youre into both fantasy and haikyuu, check them out

If you asked Tendou to tell you about his past, he wouldn’t be able to tell you much more than the usual stuff. He was born at some time, he grew up somewhere and he had moved to Tokyo a few years prior due to some reason.

Beautiful, magical but also incredibly dirty and loud Tokyo.

He liked strolling through the streets there, where no one _(or at least almost no one)_ looked at him with narrowed eyes; where his red hair and _(sometimes)_ far too many eyes were nothing peculiar; where the glow that surrounded him just served as a lone light in the night for someone who had gotten lost.

Tendou really liked being helpful.

So when someone was knocking at his door with a colourful bundle in their arms and snow in their hair, looking slightly puzzled, how could he possibly say no?

The stranger is handsome, beautiful even. His skin is tanned _(although the tips of his ears and his nose are pink due to the cold)_ and matches his olive hair as well as the pair of piercing, dark eyes, sending shivers down Tendou’s spine. He’s well-built, with long, muscular limbs beneath a thick coat, and the parts of him that are visible look a little like bark and are sprouting tiny leaves. Olive leaves, if Tendou isn’t mistaken. He probably is. The handsome stranger clears his throat, and his voice is deep and gentle when he speaks, balancing the bundle in his arms.

“I am sorry for the disturbance, but I found this in front of your apartment. Is it yours, by any chance?” He cocks his head to the side in what can only be described as cute, holding the bundle out to show it off to Tendou.

The latter reaches out to brush the fabric aside and get a better look at what’s inside. He’s greeted by a small, fair face, completed with a thatch of jetblack hair. Dark brown eyes stare back at him, blinking lazily.

A baby.

Well, maybe more of a lion cub. Beneath all the fabric, Tendou can see how its torso is beginning to sprout sandy hair and a pair of small, off-white wings is folded neatly on its back.

He looks back up at the stranger, scanning him. Is this a joke of some kind?

“I think I’d know if I had a child-“ he sees the stranger furrow his brows at this, but he doesn’t comment- “so no, it’s not mine.”

The stranger looks uncomfortable, shifting with the bundle in his arms as the baby waves a small, sandy paw around and babbles something incomprehensible. Tendou feels bad for the guy. “Are you completely sure?” He inquires, his gaze not on the child but on Tendou, scrutinizing him. 

Of course he is? “Yep. Say, you look lost, do you wanna- I don’t know, come in maybe? I could make us a cuppa coffee and we could decide what to do with… it?” The stranger stares at him as if he’s grown two extra hands. Checking himself subtly, that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Cute Guy shakes his head. “I would not want to impose. Again, I am sorry for the disturbance; I will just drop him off… somewhere. The shelter, probably.” He nods to himself as if he’s the one he has to convince. “So his parents can pick him up.”

Now it’s Tendou’s turn to furrow his brows. “Dude, usually when you leave a baby at someone’s doorstep, it’s because you don’t want the baby.” He shoots a pitying look at the child, which in turn just giggles at the attention it’s receiving. “Come on in,” he says, stepping to the side so the guy can step inside. “I’m Tendou Satori, by the way. If that makes you feel better.”

“I know, I read it on your nameplate. I am Ushijima Wakatoshi,” the stranger greets back, the bundle tightly held in his arms as he scans the area. The hesitance is clearly visible on his face – he’s not very good at concealing what he’s feeling. His eyes linger on the framed photographs on the walls and the half-open door at the end of the hallway.

Swiftly, Tendou moves over to kick it shut with the heel of his foot, hiding whatever mess is in there. He smiles sweetly at Ushijima. “It’s nice to meet you and-“ he pauses, looking at the baby- “and… uhm… does it- does he have a name?”

Ushijima looks completely unperturbed, deciding to check the little bundle for something. A nametag, most likely. He hums, seemingly having found something. “It says here that his first name is Tsutomu.”

“Alright then,” Tendou breathes out, moving over to the tiny kitchen and setting a kettle filled with water on the stove, cranking the heat up. He also moves over to the heater to do the same there; babies are easily affected by the cold, after all. Behind him, he can sense Ushijima moving, can see him sitting down at the table and looking around, the baby still in his arms. His eyes are still narrowed and he seems to be on edge, ready to jump up at any moment.

The kettle starts to whistle and with experienced hands, he pours the boiling water into two cups, already filled with ground coffee. He hums a low tune as he does so, and the baby giggles behind him. Tendou smiles to himself as he opens the fridge and scans it, taking out the milk. “D’you want milk and sugar or anything?” He asks without turning around, focusing solely on the task in front of him.

“No, thank you, I drink it black” Ushijima politely declines. Glancing back slightly, Tendou sees that one of his hands is on the wooden table, feeling the material as he traces little, invisible circles across the surface. He thanks Tendou when a cup is placed in front of him, placing the bundle on top of the table so he can wrap his hands around the mug. Tsutomu wriggles around a little, but makes no motions to crawl off the edge. He looks a little like a caterpillar, trapped in its cocoon.

Settling down next to him, Tendou places his own cup _(more milk and sugar than actual coffee)_ in front of him and then takes a closer look at Tsutomu. The baby’s eyes are wide open now, scanning the area with newfound interest and his paws are still waving around. He looks at Ushijima. “Can I take him for a second?”

Ushijima just shrugs. “If you want to.” Nevertheless, he fiddles with his hands a little, his thumbs rubbing along the rim of the cup and the little leaves on his arms vibrating.

Not hesitating, Tendou reaches over and frees Tsutomu from his cosy, warm prison, setting him on his own lap and linking his hands in front of the other’s small body so he can’t accidentally crawl off. The baby babbles on happily, trying to softly paw at Tendou’s hands and when that doesn’t work, latching his mouth onto Tendou’s arm, little teeth trying to gnaw at the skin there. He strokes Tsutomu’s head and then runs it down his fluffy back, feeling the material of the wings and his tiny paws. “A sphinx cub,” he murmurs out loud, more to himself than Ushijima, but the other nods nonetheless. “And he was just in front of my door like that?”

“Indeed,” Ushijima affirms, closing his eyes and raising the mug to inhale the bitter smell. His face loses some of its tension, smoothing out. He looks younger like that, almost soft.

Tendou clicks his tongue, taking a sip of his own coffee and swishes it around in his mouth. It’s not hot anymore with all the milk he’s diluted it with, but that’s no problem. He watches the way Ushijima’s face relaxes; his features are exceptionally pretty, with a long, straight nose and a sharp jawline. Unconsciously Tendou raises his own hand to his face. His own jawline is sharp as well, but a more edged-kind of way.

Tsutomu is still drooling on his arm, and swiftly he lifts the small cub up to look into its face, examining it. Its dark eyes follow his every moment as it grins a toothy smile at him, trying to paw at his face. “Who’d leave such a cute little thing like you?” He coos at the baby, smiling all the while.

Ushijima clears his throat. “I do no comprehend it either. It seems irresponsible to me.” He shifts in his seat, looking around again.

There isn’t much to be seen in the little kitchen – the floor is tiled and the walls are bare, a muted tone of grey Semi had recommended to him. A few anthracite-coloured feathers are laying on various surfaces, especially the kitchen counter and Ushijima’s eyes seemingly focus on them.

Tendou smirks at him. “Question is, what do we do with him?” He likes the small creature; Tsutomu is cute and small and one day he’ll become a big, fierce sphinx, no doubt. He rocks the cub in his arms and it laughs a little, nestling its head in the crook of his arm and purring. Stroking its head and back, he looks back up at Ushijima who is currently staring into his mug as if it holds the answers to the universe. The bark on his arms is darker now and vines are curling around on his skin, moving on their own. Tendou watches them with fascination.

It's only when Ushijima speaks up that his eyes dart back up. “I think it’s best if I just bring him to the nearest station or shelter. We will be out of your hair in a few minutes.” He seems uneasy at the thought, as if he isn’t the one proposing the idea.

Scowling a little, Tendou looks back down at the cub; it watches him with its big eyes. “But he’s such a cutie,” he murmurs under his breath, pouting a little. “You wanna stay here, don’t you, Tsu?”

Tsutomu babbles on happily, oblivious to what’s going on around him.

Ushijima puts his mug back down on the table with a little more force than necessary. It startles Tsutomu and the little sphinx starts wailing, big, fat tears running down its tiny cheeks and then being soaked up by the blanket wrapped around him. Tendou tries to do some rocking motions he’s seen young mothers with children do in public, and fortunately it helps. Tsutomu’s tiny hind legs kick out at his arms, his small claws scratching him slightly, but the redhead doesn’t mind. He shushes Tsutomu, humming quietly until the baby falls asleep. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes.

“I am sorry,” Ushijima says, his voice low, probably so he won’t wake Tsutomu. “However, I do not think it would be a good idea to leave a helpless cub with you.”

Tendou sputters indignantly. “Why not? Is that supposed to be an insult? Because if it is, I’ll have you know that I’m very good with kids!”

Ushijima shakes his head. “That is not what I meant. I was merely expressing my concern due to the fact that I cannot leave a baby with a stranger I have just met. I don’t know who or what you are. And besides, there are a lot of papers to be filled out if you wish to adopt a baby and you seem very young to me.”

He is right – Tendou is very young indeed. Barely out of university, in fact, but with a stable job nonetheless. He could definitely care for a child, yep, no doubt at all. Conflicted he looks down at the small baby in his arms with a little more eyes than necessary, gnawing on his lower lip. “But he has nowhere else to go, and I don’t want him to grow up in an orphanage. Or get adopted by some weirdo who just wants a fancy pet.”

The room is silent for a moment as both of them think, only interrupted by Tsutomu’s soft snores. Then Ushijima sighs. “It would be very unwise,” he says, all the while motioning for Tendou to hand over the cub. He complies, albeit reluctantly, feeling the lack of warmth once Tsutomu is back in Ushijima’s arms. Only when he has a safe grip on Tsutomu does the other continue. “Unwise due to several reasons; like I already said, the paperwork is not to be underestimated and adoptions usually take a long time. Your chances are also lowered by the fact that you seem to be single, a male and a magical being at that. You are also very young, having most likely just finished university and not that much money yet.”

Tendou heaves a tired sigh, fixing his gaze on the table so he doesn’t have to look at Tsutomu, snuggled against Ushijima’s broad frame _(and probably drooling all over it)_.

“However,” the other continues, “it would be easier to start with Foster Care. And if you do prove to be trustworthy, I could help you with that.”

With hope in his eyes, Tendou looks up to stare with big, round eyes at Ushijima, who seems to be avoiding his gaze. “How? And why?” Tendou inquires, because how and why would the stoic stranger try to help him with something that seems as crazy and impulsive as this?

And it is kind of stupid – yeah, most children seem to like him, but he has no experience with parenting, none at all! He’d babysat Semi’s little sister a few times when the other was out on dates with his partner, but that’s it! His flat is probably the last thing that can be described as baby proof.

Ushijima is now stroking Tsutomu’s fur, the little leaves that are sprouting out of his hands getting tangled in there. “I’m a lawyer,” he clarifies, and sure enough, he looks like one. Well, he only really looks like one because Tendou now knows he is one. “I was planning to drop him off at the shelter, because I do not know anything about children. However-“ his eyes dart down for a second as Tsutomu buries his fangs in Ushijima’s hands. He doesn’t even flinch, and the small indents leak a little resin until they close themselves. Tsutomu cocks his head to the side, licking the place with his rough, pink tongue. “I could appeal to the court. As a respectable and productive member of society, they are more likely to trust me, so it is possible that he would be allowed to stay with me for the time being. And a friend of mine works at the local orphanage, so I have pretty good chances.”

Was that an insult? That felt like an insult. Tendou frowns, his eyebrows knitting together. “Didn’t you just say you have no idea how to care for children and that you wouldn’t really wanna take care of one?”

Ushijima nods. “That I did. That is where you come into play. If you do turn out to be trustworthy, I would be willing to let you reside at my place for some time and care for Tsutomu, at least until he has a permanent place to stay.” He averts his eyes again, and his knee is bobbing up and down underneath the table.

He doesn’t know what to say. Honestly, what is there to say? What _does_ one say when someone offers you a place to stay so you could care for a child you had met, what, 20 minutes earlier?

But Tendou’s never been one to overthink too much – so he nods, his jaw almost on the floor.

The left corner of Ushijima’s mouth lifts up a tiny bit. “Very well then. If you do agree, then I will arrange a meeting for my aforementioned friend and you. I trust his judgement. Thank you for the coffee, Tendou-san. Tsutomu and I will be leaving for now.”

He gets up and bows a little, Tsutomu still giggling in his arms and trying to paw at his hair.

And then the stranger strides over to the door, opens it and is gone.

The only thing that is left is a small leaf on the table with a number written on it.

* * *

Tendou is very nervous when he first meets Reon Oohira, but the other is a literal sweetheart.

His dark eyes are filled with kindness and he smiles as he questions Tendou over a cup of coffee in a nearby café, nursing a green tea himself. He stirs it from time to time, watching as the tea leaves float around. There’s dark fur on his arms and hands, but it’s barely noticeable in the dim light. For a moment Tendou imagines he can see a second head next to Oohira’s but it’s gone in an instant. 

Whereas the dimness hides Oohira’s true identity, it only makes Tendou stand out more. The shimmer emitted by him lights up the establishment, making the other patrons squint in his direction.

At the end of their conversation, Oohira hands over a small stack of papers and thanks him for his time, smiling at him again, warm and happy.

Tendou is tempted to ask if he’s passed the test, whatever that entails, but the other just shakes _(a reader, maybe? or just a mage with divination skills?)_ his head and pays for both of their drinks, leaving Tendou puzzled.

* * *

When he first steps into Ushijima’s house, he is _awed._

It’s out in the suburbs, maybe two hours away from his own apartment and with its own, huge garden. The ceilings are high – very high, in fact, adorned by tall windows, and the floor is made out of white marble, with a few pillars strategically placed here and there.

Ushijima is the first one to greet him.

“I see Reon thinks you are trustworthy as well,” he comments, taking Tendou’s shivering frame in, his arms folded behind his back and his posture straight. “I am very glad for that. Your belongings are already in your room on the second floor.”

Suddenly, something zooms past Tendou and he spins, dizzy for a second.

The thing comes back around, this time aiming straight at his chest and almost knocking him off his feet. He stumbles back, clutching whatever’s just assaulted him as Ushijima chuckles deeply.

He looks down at the small lion-like child there, grinning up at him with sharp teeth and dark, sparkling eyes, full of life and mischief.

“The adoption process is simplified by the facts that Tsutomu is growing very fast and that almost no one wants a sphinx cub,” Ushijima comments, not taking his eyes off of Tsutomu. He looks like a proud parent, and it almost makes Tendou snort. 

And sure enough, Tsutomu has grown quite a bit. His claws are more distinct now, leaving small indents in Tendou’s bare arms and his fur is a little rougher and darker. His tail wags behind him in excitement as he licks Tendou’s hand, babbling ‘Dou!’ over and over again.

Tendou scratches the child behind his ears and Tsutomu all but melts in his arms, purring loudly and rubbing against his hand. “Didn’t tell me you lived in a freaking mansion, did you?” He jokes, and Ushijima has the audacity to look embarrassed.

“I didn’t think that was important,” he retorts, leading the way into the kitchen as Tendou follows him, not moving too much as to not startle Tsutomu.

Which is a lost cause in itself, because the little sphinx simply leaps out of his arms to run off, his wings folded neatly on his back. Tendou watches him skid across the floor _(almost into a pillar)_ with a fond look in his eyes until Ushijima waves him over.

“If it’s alright with you, you will stay home with Tsutomu most of the time, taking care of him,” he starts explaining, sitting down at the table where two mugs are already waiting for them. Tendou settles down across him, taking his own mug of steaming coffee in his hands.

Something falls over in the hallway and shatters on the ground. Someone curses quietly and then sighs. 

Ushijima’s eyes drift to the commotion for just a second until they’re back on Tendou, piercing him with that fierceness Tendou’s grown to associate him with, and waiting for an answer.

He thinks for a moment. “Sure,” he agrees amicably, smiling into the beverage as his fingers tap a rhythm on the marble table. _Clack, clack, clack._ “I don’t mind taking care of a cub.”

“Of course you will be compensated for the time you spend here, and everything, except my own room, is free for you to use,” Ushijima continues, the tension leaving his shoulders as he sags a little into himself. It only lasts for the blink of an eye though until his straight posture is right back.

Tendou looks around the room – even though his family is not poor, this is not what he’s used to at all. Not this fancy, rich environment, not the act of being paid for taking care part-time of a child, nothing of this. It seems surreal, but he doesn’t want to question it at the moment.

Some things are just too good to be true, and Tendou is afraid that it pertains to this as well.

So he just nods, his hair bobbing up and down, and smiles politely, reaching forward to grab Ushijima’s hands. The other freezes, his hands cramping up, the vines moving rapidly on his skin, and his left eye twitches. Tendou shakes them enthusiastically, still grinning at the other until his muscles relax. “You don’t gotta do that,” he says, perfectly aware of the fact that he definitely _needs_ the money and this isn’t out of charity. Still, it’s the polite thing to do and Semi would cuss him out later if he didn’t. He draws his hands back.

Ushijima just shakes his head. “I want to,” he clarifies in that deep voice of his that never fails to send shivers down Tendou’s spine. Pleasurable shivers, if he may add. “And besides, I am not opposed to the idea of some sort of aliveness coming into my home. It has been very quiet recently.”

Something else breaks in the hallway. Louder cursing this time.

His host sighs. “We should probably check what Tsutomu is up to at the moment.” He gets up, holding a hand out for Tendou to take and he complies. Ushijima’s hands are warm and strong, and Tendou’s own feel so frail.

Together they leave the kitchen _(Tendou doesn’t look back, but he’s pretty sure there are a lot of feathers around his chair now. Tension just has that effect on him.)_ and step out into the hallway, examining the scene. An expensive-looking vase is on the ground, broken, and a hysterical looking maid is currently trying to pick up the shards, tears welling up in her eyes. When she sees them approach, she backs away ever so slightly, her head hanging in shame. “I am terribly sorry, Ushijima-san,” she starts, but the other just waves her off.

“It’s fine,” he says, eyes on the vase, “Tsutomu is still a child, I didn’t expect him to behave perfectly from day one.” Branches start enclosing around the shards, picking them up and dumping them in the garbage bag the maid has brought with her. It’s only then that Tendou notices the many olive trees that are planted around the room, standing proudly in flower tubs or hanging from the railing of the staircase. The maid thanks Ushijima and then hurries away, most likely to dispose of the remains of an irreplaceable vase.

“If you have maids, then why don’t you let them take care of Tsutomu?” Tendou inquires, cocking his head to the side. Ushijima just shrugs.

“I trust you and you said you wanted to do it,” he simply responds and with that the question is done for him. “Anyway, let us head up so I can show you your room, as well as Tsutomu’s room.”

Tendou nods in agreement and so they climb the stairs, Tendou lagging behind Ushijima ever so slightly. The walls up here are painted a mossy shade of green and there are several toys on the floor as well as a lone volleyball rolling around. “I did not know what kind of toys a child would need, so I just got him some things,” Ushijima explains, cringing at the mess Tsutomu has made.

He walks over to the first door on the right, pressing down the handle and opening it quietly to peer inside. Tendou can’t see anything from behind him, so he stands up on his tiptoes to watch the room from over Ushijima’s shoulder. A small, jetblack thatch of hair is visible in the middle of three or four blankets, shifting now and then from side to side. The blinds are partly drawn shut and a nightlight is glowing in one corner of the room.

Closing the door as quietly as possible, Ushijima backs out of the room, motioning for Tendou to be quiet. “It seems he is asleep at the moment. We should not disturb him.”

They move on to the next room and Ushijima once again reaches for the handle and opens the door, this time holding it open so Tendou can step inside first. “This is your room,” he announces, expectantly watching his guest.

The room is a fucking dream come true. There’s a bookshelf on one side, right next to a giant window with balcony, currently covered with white snow, containing everything from manga to thrillers to textbooks. In the middle of the wall is a queen-sized bed with red covers and across that is a TV, mounted to the wall. A small door leads through to an adjacent bathroom, and his baggage is already standing on the floor next to the closet. Thankfully, there is no mirror inside the room.

Ushijima has once again clasped his hands behind his back, eyeing him nervously. “I hope it is to your liking,” he says and all Tendou wants to do is to hug him until they both keel over. Bad idea – the floor is still made of marble, as white as the snow outside. Maybe that’s the reason why Ushijima is wearing those ugly slippers.

Instead he says, “It’s beautiful. Thank you, Ushijima.” Tendou swears he can see Ushijima’s eyes light up, a blush creeping on his cheeks.

“I am glad you seem to like it,” the other retorts and then leads him out of the room, closing the door behind them. “You’ve already seen the kitchen. There are a few bathrooms on that floor as well, as is the living room and my study. In the cellar are the laundry room and the clubroom, as well as a small gym. At the end of the hallway-“ he gestures vaguely in that direction- “is my room and another bathroom. There’s one more room I want to show you on this floor, though.”

He walks over to a door on the left side of the hallway; it’s big, heavy-looking and decorated with multiple floral ornaments; Ushijima has to lean into it to push it open.

But it does open and once again, Tendou is awestruck.

If he thought the ceiling on the ground floor was high, well… it is nothing compared to this. Tendou looks up, his eyes following the coiled pillars to the top and then becoming one with the arched ceiling, painted a deep blue with enchanted stars that blink in and out of existence. The rest of the room is painted in soft pastel blue and green hues, and the windows reach up to the ceiling as well, letting in a ton of daylight. “It should suit both you and Tsutomu,” Ushijima comments, motioning to Tendou’s back and mimicking a pair of wings. “I thought you might enjoy it.”

All he can do is stutter. “What- how did- why would you need…” He trails off, not entirely sure how to finish this sentence.

Ushijima seems to understand him nonetheless. “Someone once told me it would be a wise idea to integrate this into my house.”

_(Oohira, maybe? Was Oohira a seer?)_

Tendou shakes his head, chuckling slightly. “Yeah, I think this will suffice,” he finally manages, and Ushijima seems pleased.

There’s a banging sound coming from the hallway, and Ushijima rubs his temple with one hand, heaving a sigh, “Please promise me one thing,” he presses out between gritted teeth, “please, teach him some manners, that’s all I ask for.”

Tendou guffaws, holding his stomach and, once he’s calm enough, pats Ushijima on the shoulder. “Can’t make any promises there, big guy, but I’ll try.”

Ushijima’s lips quirk up into a little smile, and Tendou feels his heart melt at the sight. One day he’ll surely get diabetes just by looking at Tsutomu and Ushijima. “Then I’m looking forward to working with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna proofread in a few days
> 
> Title is inspired by this one quote from eridan (homestuck) which just goes like:
> 
> CA: i got clouds and they dont tell me SHIT they hide nothin but misfortune and monstrosities  
> CA: fuckin pain in the ass fuckin clouds


	2. March: The Lovers, Strength and The Magician

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ennoshita, Tanaka and Nishinoya do really stupid stuff together.
> 
> How stupid?
> 
> Well, really stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the chapter that the violence tag pertains to. 
> 
> be wary.  
> jk, it isnt that bad.

“So what’s the verdict, boys?”

Ennoshita just sighs, rubbing his temple with his right hand, his left clutching a now crumpled newspaper. He is currently seated on a chair at the kitchen table _(his kitchen table, thank you very much)_ , a nice cup of tea in front of him, leaving a round, wet imprint where it’s standing on the granite surface. “I told you to stop saying it like that,” he reprimands the other.

Nishinoya just snickers from where he is perched up on the counter _(because that guy couldn’t act normal if his life depended on it)_ scratching out the dirt from underneath his fingernails. His hair is once again styled ridiculously high, almost distracting from the fact that there’s a pair of huge wings folded on his back, stretching out from time to time, and that the air around him seems to be crackling with electricity.

Every time he comes over, Ennoshita has to hide all his electricity-powered gadgets, so Nishinoya doesn’t accidentally destroy all of his electronics by short-circuiting them. It happens more often than not, and frankly, he is just tired from having to buy a new phone every few weeks. His paycheck is good, but not that good.

But Tanaka still seems to be waiting for an answer, looking curiously at them, his long tail, ending in an arrow-shaped tip, curling around his feet, sometimes dragging across the tiled floor, creating a screeching noise. His scales shimmer in the dim, artificial kitchen light. “Oh come on,” he now says, rolling his eyes, “I know y’all have respectable jobs now, but aren’t you tired of being goody two-shoes? Don’t you just wanna go apeshit?”

Deciding to ignore him but still watching him with two of his eyes, Ennoshita fixes two eyes on his newspaper, closing the other currently unused eyes. “Sometimes I really don’t understand how you managed to marry Kiyoko-san,” he sighs, and Nishinoya shoots him a fake disgruntled look, swinging his legs a little. His heels clack against the cabinet doors. “She could’ve done so much better than you.” 

“Hey!” Tanaka exclaims, his brows furrowed. “You’re just jealous, aren’t you? I told you I could get you a date, y’know? Then you wouldn’t have to be so salty. With a little makeover you could be a real _eye-_ catcher.” He has the audacity to wink.

Ennoshita just politely declines once again _(he has stopped counting how often Tanaka has proposed that idea now),_ closing the newspaper. He probably won’t get a lot of reading done with those two in his apartment.

“Stop that, Noya,” he mutters, standing up and taking the toaster out of Nishinoya’s hands, placing it back on the counter. He stretches a little, yawning, and then moves past the two of them into his living room, deciding to water his flowers. It’s spring now, and his crocuses are blooming wonderfully, all violet and mauve.

But no such luck.

Tanaka steps into his path, his arms crossed in front of his chest and a determined look in his eyes. “Geez, man, relax a little! Live your life! You act like such a gramps.” The spindly, thin wings on his back flutter slightly, as if he’s ready to take off at any moment. “Noya’s already agreed as well, so it’s just you now! Please?”

Ennoshita cocks his head to the side, thinking for a moment. “You know what? No.” He turns back around, manoeuvring past Tanaka’s broad frame.

The other whines loudly. “Come on! It’d be one time! Once doesn’t hurt, and besides, we’ve done it before!”

He sighs again. Nishinoya is cackling in the background, enjoying the situation. “Yeah, when we were young and stupid! And besides, why don’t the two of you just go alone? I’m sure you don’t need me when you both have magical wings.”

Nishinoya now decides to grace them with his presence as well, striding into the small living room. He plops down onto the couch, digging his talons into the leather, the typical crackling sound surrounding him. He grins at them, showing off sharp teeth. “But it’s way more fun with you, Enno!”

Ennoshita shoots him a dirty look. “What are you even doing here? I thought you became a familiar? Shouldn’t you be with your witch? Or mage or whatever?”

The small bird-like creature just shrugs, inspecting his talons again. “Mage. And Asahi is such a sweetheart; he doesn’t mind when I go strolling around for a little. And even if he did, I don’t think he’d have the balls to stop me. Besides, my kind usually attacks our witch’s or mage’s enemies, but Asahi literally has none so I’m kinda useless at the moment.”

He groans, burying his face in his hands. It doesn’t help – his eyes still see almost everything that is going on around him. “I still don’t see what you’d need me for; there’s nothing I can do that you can’t.”

And it’s true – they call him the All-Seeing, an almighty title, but that’s really all he can do. He has no special powers, no way of predicting the future or seeing things that aren’t visible to the normal eye.

He isn’t like Nishinoya or Tanaka, able to power through life with brute force. He can’t soar through the air, can’t attack his enemies with talons and claws, can’t create thunder.

All he has is his eyes. A lot of eyes.

A strong, warm hand is placed on his shoulder. “Chikara, _Chikara,_ ” Tanaka says, his eyes and voice soft, “you’re the backbone of our team, pillar of our existence. We’d be dead without you.”

Ennoshita snorts. “What team?”

Nishinoya yells ‘Wildcats!’, but both of them ignore him.

“So come on, it’s just one more time and then we won’t bother you ever again, yeah? Just one more time?” Tanaka smiles at him and _fuck, how is he supposed to say no now?_

Nodding a little, he relents. “Alright,” Ennoshita says, holding his hand up when Nishinoya and Tanaka start cheering. It immediately silences them. “Just once though. Promise me, no more dangerous stuff after that, yeah?”

Tanaka nods enthusiastically. “A promise is a promise,” he grins, puffing his chest out.

Ennoshita just sighs.

* * *

Well, it’s not like he expected anything different.

The streets around him are quiet and dark. There’s nothing he can see but the things illuminated by streetlights, nothing he can hear but the laboured breathing of his two companions and the slight flapping of their wings, Nishinoya’s rustling of feathers and Tanaka’s papery skin.

It’s just them – them and the wilderness of the Tokyo-streets, usually bustling with life and laughter and chatter.

He grips the knife a little tighter, feeling the slim hilt of the dagger-like weapon in his hands, heavy and comforting, with a name he doesn’t recognize imprinted on it. The edge is sharp; he made sure of that.

Most of his eyes face each direction; the remaining are divided between the sky and the ground. It still doesn’t feel like it’s enough.

The streets around him are quiet and dark; yet the unmistakable, tangy scent of sweet copper hangs in the air and weighs down on him. Tanaka and Nishinoya are behind him, moving on tiptoes.

Nishinoya has his talons bared, ready to strike and Tanaka has his tail with the arrow-shaped tip in front of him like a flexible lance, moving constantly at every little sounds that his trained ears pick up.

“This was a bad idea,” Ennoshita mutters under his breath, his eyes flicking back and forth as he takes in their surroundings. “Such a bad idea.”

Tanaka shushes him, his voice equally as quiet. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now?”

His words might seem harsh to an outsider, but Ennoshita knows him well enough to recognize the worried undertone. He shakes his head. “It’s alright. I can still go on.”

Nishinoya clicks his tongue, digging one of his sharp talons in the small of Ennoshita’s back without piercing the fabric of his jacket. “Sure hope you can!” He exclaims, maybe a little louder than necessary.

Something stirs in the darkness of a nearby alleyway.

All three of them stop breathing – well, at least Tanaka and Ennoshita do. Nishinoya’s breath hitches in anticipation, his eyes gleaming with mischief. And something else, something more carnal. His black and white feathers flash in the light of a nearby street lamp as he gets ready to pounce. He licks his lips, his white fangs glistening in the moonlight – or maybe just the light of the lamps.

It all looks the same to Ennoshita.

Tanaka raises his knife _(why he of all people needs a knife is incomprehensible)_ and falls back into a protective stance, effectively shielding Ennoshita without blocking his vision. His tail slithers around them like a poisonous snake.

Nishinoya grins, slowly advancing to the place where they’d heard the noise. “My claws hunger for justice!” He suddenly proclaims, leaping forward. “Thunder Slash!” They crackle with electricity, small sparks giving the surrounding objects a yellow shine, as he slashes whatever thing has had the misfortune of running into him.

Held back by the outstretched arm in front of him, Ennoshita can only yell out a short ‘Watch out!’ as something else jumps at them from the side. In an instant, Tanaka’s tail has risen up, blocking the attack and retaliating with a short stab of its own.

Their other friend is still engrossed in his own little fight, dodging, parrying and slashing all the while the deranged grin adorns his face. He’s actually _giggling,_ Ennoshita notes, exasperation creeping into him.

Not for long though, as Tanaka pushes him out of the way to have a better range and mobility. He _knew_ he shouldn’t have come. All he can do, is…

Ennoshita scans the area for more movements, but either they concealed themselves fairly good or there’s no one besides them on this street. He guesses it’s the latter – judging by the way these creatures are holding themselves up, they’re amateurs _(or just really hungry)_ at best.

He backs into a narrow alleyway, watching Nishinoya and Tanaka deploy everything they have, lashing out at their opponents. Nishinoya’s foe is already bleeding heavily from several scratch marks on what seem to be its enlarged limbs; it also seems to be partly paralyzed, its movements sluggish and slowed. It's easier to think of these creatures as just that - creatures, with no humanity or mercy left in them, their eyes wild and crazed. Which they are, basically, but... it still feels wrong, somehow. 

Anyhow; the creature doesn’t seem like it can hold up much longer – and it seems to realize that as well. The manlike thing bares its teeth as its eyes dart around, probably searching for an escape route. Nishinoya apparently has other plans; he unfolds his wings to block the way. They’re splattered with red blood, and unconsciously Ennoshita scrunches up his nose as the scene plays out in front of him.

Gurgling out a low ‘Then take me out if you can!’, the creature dashes forward to break through the barrier, only to be held back by Nishinoya, who grabs its hair, yanking its head to the side to bare its now vulnerable neck.

Ennoshita knows what’s coming, so he averts his eyes as his friend sinks his teeth into the other’s neck, draining the creature of its blood. He can’t ignore the disgusting slurping sounds though.

He knows this is necessary; that there are beings thriving in Tokyo that are better off dead, that there are beings that willingly harm others and that they need to be taken out. It doesn’t mean he likes the job.

Trying not to stare at the gruesome picture in front of him, he looks over to Tanaka, who thankfully isn’t playing with his opponent anymore, but instead has had the mercy to stab the creature through its heart. At least Ennoshita thinks that’s where its heart is located.

He leaves the safety of the alley, stepping over to Tanaka to look at the woman on the ground. Her hair is messy and matted, tangled in most places and her clothes are dirty, but her face is peaceful. Tanaka’s poison works fast. Or maybe it’s one of Kiyoko-san’s tinctures, slathered onto his tail.

Tanaka wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, his eyes never leaving the corpse. “We should call the Cleaner,” he casually comments, promptly looking over to where Ennoshita can hear a faint _thud!_ which means that Nishinoya’s finished as well. He still doesn’t open the eyes facing his smaller friend.

A strong hand slaps his shoulder and suddenly Nishinoya is right beside him, leaning his entire weight _(not a lot)_ against Ennoshita’s body. “That all?” He enquires, and makes a disappointed noise in the back of his throat when Ennoshita nods.

He notices that the dagger is still in his hand, still clean, and puts it back in its sheath, clasping his now empty hands in front of his body.

The cool night air surrounding them seems tainted with violence and the too hot stench of guilt.

Gnawing on the inside of his cheek, Ennoshita turns around, striding away. He can see Nishinoya and Tanaka following him, confused. “We’re done here,” he comments, not facing them. “I kept my promise, and now it’s your turn to keep yours.” Both of his friends share a look behind his back.

“Shit, man,” Tanaka curses softly. “How can you not like Hunting? We thought for sure that this one would change your mind.” Nishinoya nods as well, his face devoid of the usual cocky grin.

Ennoshita clicks his tongue. “Well, you thought wrong. I just don’t see the appeal in Hunting and killing weaker creatures, no matter how vile they seem. Every life has value – surely they could’ve been rehabilitated someday!” They couldn’t have been, at least not soon enough. He knows that.

“Chikara,” Nishinoya starts softly, and immediately sirens start going off in his head. “Those creatures were Lost. It was only a matter of time until they would’ve attacked civilians, until there was nothing human in them anymore. We did them a favour, really.”

He presses his lips together tightly and then shakes his head.

Distracted like that, he doesn’t notice the movement on his right side until it’s too late. Suddenly a dull kind of pain blooms in his arm and he clutches it to his body, exhaling sharply. Beneath his fingers he can feel blood welling up, running over his hand and leaving it sticky and warm. He grimaces, jumping back a few feet until there is at least some distance between his attacker and himself.

Reaching for the knife, Nishinoya and Tanaka have already moved forward, positioning themselves between the two of them. Nishinoya’s teeth are bared again, his eyes flashing red with anger and he is slightly hunched over. Tanaka is no better; his scales shimmer in the dim light, moving along his body as if they’re breathing, as if they’re alive. He’s discarded the knife, his tail hovering in the air in front of him.

The hilt of the knife is in Ennoshita’s right hand, but it’s shaking badly – whether it’s due to the wound inflicted on him or his unwillingness to harm others, he doesn’t know. He’s not made to fight, merely an observer.

And thus he observes as Tanaka and Nishinoya unleash all they have on the attacker, not holding back for even one second. The movements are too fast to follow – at least for a human. He isn’t human, at least not purely. 

But he decides to close all of his eyes, trusting his friends to protect him, as he presses onto the wound where the blood just keeps pushing past his fingers, dripping rhythmically onto the street. It hurts, it really does.

He listens to the clashing of metal and the screeching of teeth against bone and he shivers, his own breath ragged and fast. God, he’s so _pathetic_ , how could this-

A warm hand is placed on his shoulder, shaking him lightly. “You okay, man?” Tanaka inquires, and when Ennoshita opens his eyes _(just two)_ his face is concerned.

Nishinoya is busy inspecting the wound on the brunet’s right arm, running his fingers, this time without talons, along the ragged cut. He lets out a low whistle. “You should get this cleaned up and maybe stitched,” he comments, and it sounds casual if not for the slight waver in his voice.

Ennoshita nods. “I know.”

And he definitely does – the cut is ugly, oozing the same red substance that’s coating the ground and both Nishinoya’s and Tanaka’s hands, and it hurts with every breath he takes, pulsating underneath his fingers.

Tanaka clicks his tongue, reaching for the colourful sweat headband, that he always has with him but never wears _(because it is atrocious, Ennoshita’s mind supplies)_ and wrapping it around the brunet’s upper arm, stemming the blood flow. It’s make-shift at best, but it’ll do its job for the time being. “Know of any witches or somethin’ that work in this area?” He asks, addressing both Nishinoya and Ennoshita.

The former cocks his head to the side, clearly thinking, while Ennoshita busies himself with trying to fish his phone out of his pocket and type a message to the Cleaner with his left hand. It’s harder than anticipated, but it distracts him from the dull ache in his arm.

Finally, Nishinoya snaps his fingers, his grin threatening to split his face in half. “Got it!” He exclaims. “Why don’t we just ask Asahi?”

The streets are quiet for a moment, just the typical noises of the night poisoning the silence, until Tanaka speaks up, one hand on his chin, rubbing the skin there tenderly. “It’s in the middle of the night and we-“ he gestures to himself and Ennoshita- “don’t even know where the guy lives. D’you really think that’s such a good idea?” 

Nishinoya immediately retorts. “So what’s your idea, calling up Kiyoko-chan in the middle of the night and worrying her? Asahi knows what we’re doing and he’s a good healer, really! He won’t mind helping a friend o’ mine!”

Ennoshita sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose and shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “Whatever, can we just- I don’t know, continue this somewhere else? Somewhere, where it’s less likely that a civilian will stumble across us?” They should wait until the arrival of the Cleaner, Ennoshita knows that, but the sight of the other makes shivers run down his spine. 

“Aye-aye, sir,” Nishinoya replies cheekily while unfolding his wings. They’re bigger than him, gleaming in the pale light. Ennoshita fears what’s to come, moving to take a step backwards, but Nishinoya has already grabbed his left wrist, securing him on the spot. He crouches down a little, bending his knees, ready to take off, and before Ennoshita can voice his concerns, Nishinoya’s feet have left the ground, hauling Ennoshita up behind him.

It always feels like his joint is about to pop out of its socket.

Diligently closing his mouth _(accidentally ingesting flies isn’t fun),_ they soar up into the air and Nishinoya immediately begins to relocate Ennoshita so the other is clinging to Nishinoya’s slim body and not just hanging in the air behind him.

Ennoshita doesn’t hate _flying_ per se; he just hates flying with Nishinoya. Past memories of his friend flying loops with him in tow flash through his head, but he wills them to go away.

He buries his head in the other’s shoulder, but sometimes his number of eyes were more of a curse than a blessing. The air feels cold on his sweaty forehead and the gash on his arm as Nishinoya’s wings continue to work behind them.

It’s just a matter of seconds until Tanaka is beside them, easily keeping pace. “Geez, Noya, you can’t just always take off when you feel like it,” he says, rolling his eyes, but a playful smirk plays around his lips.

That’s what it sounds like, at least.

Ennoshita keeps his eyes tightly shut, not daring to look at his friends or, even worse, down at the streets of Tokyo. His feet dangle uncomfortably in the air and the only thing that’s keeping him airborne is Nishinoya’s arms around his upper body.

It feels like an eternity until they slow down, getting ready to approach the ground once again. Nishinoya and Tanaka have been mercifully quiet along the way with Nishinoya sometimes giving short directions to the latter.

He sighs against his friend’s neck, daring to crack his eyes open a tiny bit to look at their surroundings. They’re still a few hundred metres in the air, just above a dark park, but they’re descending.

Ennoshita only lets go of Nishinoya when both of his feet are planted firmly on the ground. His legs shake slightly as he staggers forward, but Tanaka is instantly next to him, grabbing his arm and keeping him upright. He quietly thanks his friend while Nishinoya hurries forward to knock at the door of a small house that definitely wasn’t there a minute ago.

His tiny hands grab the giant knocker, and with a force you wouldn’t expect from such a small being like him, he brings it back onto the wood, repeating the action again and again until a tired sounding voice yells ‘Coming!’ from the inside.

The sight that greets him when Asahi-san _(or at least he supposes it’s Asahi-san)_ opens the door is strange, but not unwelcome.

* * *

Sometimes, Ennoshita wonders how certain people end up together.

It’s not even about Kiyoko-san and Tanaka this time, because that he can at least kind of understand. They’re both wonderful people, only wanting the best for their friends, and they’re passionate about the same things _(Hunting excluded)._

It’s more so about the gentle giant that’s inhabiting the house and introduced himself as Asahi – he seemed frightful at first, dark stubble on his chin and even darker bags underneath his eyes, his hair tousled by sleep.

But as soon as he spotted Nishinoya, his eyes lit up and a kind smile spread across his face. He brushed his hair back and nervously shifted from one leg onto the other, holding the door open as Tanaka led Ennoshita inside and Nishinoya swiftly explained the situation, Asahi nodding along and frowning now and then.

After Nishinoya was done talking, Asahi went to the kitchen to prepare a Soothing Tea, adding small leaves and petals into it that not even Ennoshita could name. He handed the cup to the brunet who dutifully sipped now and then; it didn’t taste bad, just… kind of weird. Earthy, as if you were eating raw beetroot.

Asahi then hurried back into the kitchen, grabbing a kind-of ointment and a piece of cloth, slathering Ennoshita’s arm with the balsam and then wrapping it in the cloth. He pressed a small tub of the ointment into Ennoshita’s hand, who thanked him with a confused expression, wincing now and then as his arm burnt painfully.

Probably the skin knitting itself together.

He didn’t want to think about it.

* * *

And that’s where he is now – on Asahi’s couch, clutching an empty teacup in his hands, a tub of ointment in his pocket, and staring at the man in front of him, who’s wringing his hands nervously.

Tanaka and Nishinoya wandered off at some point, although Ennoshita suspects that Nishinoya can listen in to their conversation due to his bond with Asahi. He sighs in defeat, burying his head in his hands.

Asahi still stares at him. “Are you alright, uhm…”

“Ennoshita,” he helpfully supplies. “And yes, your concern is appreciated, but I am quite alright now thanks to your help.” He tries to smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace.

Asahi is still staring at him. “It’s no problem. I’m always glad to help,” he replies, occasionally sipping on his own tea, one of his pinkies splayed out. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen one of your kind,” he remarks.

He nods. “That’s to be expected,” Ennoshita says, half of his eyes blinking in unison. He never closes all of his eyes in unknown locations.

Settling back on the soft couch _(not leather),_ he places the teacup onto the coffee table beside the armrest, folding his hands in front of his body. “How shall I repay you, Asahi-san?”

The man chuckles softly, raising his hand to hide his mouth. “Just Asahi is fine. And you don’t need to repay me.”

Ennoshita frowns. “I have to,” he insists, “it would be unkind if I didn’t. Everything has its price.”

Shaking his head, Asahi puts down his cup as well. It’s still steaming, the mist evaporating into thin air. “Let’s call it a friendly turn, how about it?” He starts, and Ennoshita is about to retort when Asahi continues. “If you can’t accept that, then how about you help me out for some time? You don’t seem to like Hunting very much, but you can put your eyes to another use if you do decide to work with me.”

He cocks his head to one side, gnawing on his lower lip. Most of his eyes are fixed on Asahi, searching for a sign of ingenuity, but all he can perceive is kindness. “What kind of work?” He inquires.

Asahi smiles. “Fair question. I was thinking about you helping me to search for ingredients and maybe keeping an – or multiple – eyes on my concoctions while I brew them. It sometimes gets hectic around here, especially if Noya is involved.”

“Just that?” It seems like such a small price to pay, that he can’t help but be suspicious.

“Just that,” Asahi confirms. “Of course only if you agree.” He waits patiently for an answer, hands folded in his lap.

“And you wouldn’t keep me forever, right? It’s just for some time?” You could never be careful enough with mages and witches.

Asahi huffs a quiet laugh. “If I tried to deceive you, Nishinoya wouldn’t hesitate to hunt me down himself,” he remarks, seemingly not at all bothered by the idea. “He is very loyal to his friends.”

Ennoshita finally nods, stretching out his uninjured arm. “It’s a deal, then,” he states as Asahi grabs his hand, shaking it with his own gentle one.

Electricity makes the air around them buzz slightly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently playing code vein (to distract myself from my actual assignments) bc my brother bought it a while ago and that game is really fanservice-y innit.  
> Nevertheless jack is such a dad, like literally.
> 
> Idk y this is so unpopular maybe i gotta add ships


	3. April: The High Priestess and The Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shirabu and Semi go on dates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am back. tired, but back.  
> like, really tired. i will sleep now.

Shirabu Kenjirou hated the rain, and that was a fact.

That fact is currently as clear as the rainwater pooling on the street, turning into deep puddles and also staining his freshly-cleaned window.

He clicks his tongue, turning away from the window he’d, no doubt, have to clean again tomorrow and instead stares at his companion, currently seated on the couch.

Said companion is curling a lock of his ashen hair around his finger, feet propped up on the coffee table _(it makes Shirabu’s eye twitch, but he doesn’t say anything)_ and a bored expression on his face.

Looking back outside, the weather just reminds him of the time the two of them had initially met – back then on Orkney the weather had been as bad, rainy and stormy and just grey _(a depressing shade of grey)_ in general.

Shirabu doesn’t like thinking about it – doesn’t like thinking about the way Eita had been dressed in silver armour back then, shining in the dim light of the moon, or how green his eyes had been, doesn’t like thinking about the rest of Eita’s people and how their distrusting eyes had followed him everywhere he’d gone. He doesn’t like to think about the changeling that Eita claimed was his sister, which they’d brought with them, doesn’t like to think how there’s an inhuman creature out there with the same face as her, growing up in peace while the human child Eita’s people had taken would remain young forever.

Eita doesn’t seem to mind, or really share, any of Shirabu’s dark thoughts – he is fully engrossed in watching the rain splatter against the glass, following each droplet running down the windowpane with his eyes. “I’m bored, Kenjirou,” he finally says.

“So? What am I supposed to do about that?” Shirabu doesn’t mean to sound so snippy, but something about Eita always sets him off, no matter how long they’ve already been together at this point now.

The creature across him sighs – it’s a high-pitched, almost comical sound, and looks down at his hands. His fingers are slender and long but despite their frail appearance they are calloused and strong – Kenjirou can almost feel them leaving ghostly touches, long forgotten, on his body, speaking in a rather physical language both of them understood, whispering sweet nothings and breathless prayers.

The rest of Eita differs greatly from the boy he’d met back then. He isn’t just skin and bones anymore, and although the dark grey clothes are a little loose, it isn’t as bad as it was back then, and while he still adamantly refuses to wear shoes, he at least sometimes wears socks around the apartment. Mismatched socks, but it’s still a start in the right direction. 

Shirabu shortly glances down to steal a look at the digital numbers embedded in the skin of his wrist, displaying the current time. His parents hadn’t wanted him to get a tattoo, but then again, they also probably hadn’t wanted him move in with a creature of the highlands.

Groaning, he opens up his laptop resting on his lap, ignoring the USB with the half-written grimoire on it for now. He could always get back to that later. Instead he opens his web browser, first and foremost checking if all the Tracing and Blocking spells are still in place – which they are, thankfully. His fingers hover above the keyboard. “So what do you want to do, then?”

Eita perks up at that, a little smirk playing around his lips. “I dunno, just something fun. Can we go to the aquarium? I haven’t been to one yet. Or to the movies? The park? I think I like the park. The park is pretty cool.”

Shirabu huffs a quiet laugh. “You can pick one, and I pick one in return, how about it?” Eita’s childish curiosity never fails to amuse him.

His companion nods excitedly, his hair framing his face and bringing out his pale complexion even more. “Tokyo Tower,” he says after pondering the question for a few moments, his dark eyes glistening. 

Trying not to show his surprise, Shirabu nods as well to show Eita that he’d heard the suggestion. “Alright then,” he says, inclining his head a little and typing in Eita’s suggestion to check if it’s open on this gloomy day – coincidentally, it is.

“And where do you want to go?” Eita asks, staring intently at him as if trying to read his thoughts. Not that Eita can do that, of course. And even if he could – Shirabu has Blocking Spells and bead chains for that as well.

It doesn’t take him long to decide. “I think I want to go to a sensory deprivation tank again, you know?” Eita doesn’t seem to know, so he elaborates, “it’s basically just an almost silent capsule filled with salt water that you are in for a few hours and it creates an environment free of distractions, enabling you to relax. I’m kind of stuck writing the grimoire, I need some type of inspiration.” 

Eita nods again, even if he doesn’t seem convinced. “If that’s what you want, then I guess it shall be.” He smiles at Shirabu with teeth that seem a little too sharp, but the mage isn’t perturbed in the slightest, doesn’t even flinch back anymore.

Shirabu hops off the armchair he was seated in until a moment ago, grabbing the messenger bag that he tends to always keep on him, enchanted with several charms and fishes a map of Tokyo and his set of keys out of it, as well as an umbrella. “Then let’s go.”

* * *

Disdainfully he stares at Eita’s feet – his bare feet.

His companion is standing in a dirty puddle, seemingly unbothered by the cold water enveloping his legs. At least he isn’t wearing socks. The water drips right off of him and Shirabu almost envies him for the charms he’s sure the other put on, wanting to ask but stopping himself at the last second because that’s just _embarrassing._

So he bites down on his tongue, grabbing his umbrella a little tighter. _He_ doesn’t need magic to stay dry, he could use the wonders of… whatever an umbrella counted as. Shirabu stuffs his free hand into his pocket to keep him from reaching out to Eita, feeling the familiar weight of the small compass he always keeps there, but it feels lighter somehow, smaller and flatter…

Shirabu takes it out to look at it, bumping into other pedestrians and half-heartedly apologizing. The object sitting in the palm of his hand, now speckled with droplets of water, is a small, golden coin. He frowns, looking up at Eita.

“Did you take my compass?” It sounds accusing, but then again, he _wants_ it to come across as accusing. Probably.

Eita, until now peacefully walking next to him, shrugs a little and rummages around in the seemingly endless depths of his pockets, fishing out several items; his compass among them. He hands it back to Shirabu, who hastily takes it into his own hands, examining it for any scratches or malfunctions. “Sorry,” Eita says, not even looking at him, “didn’t mean to take it.”

Sighing, he shakes his head a little, trying to avoid the deeper puddles on the sidewalk by stepping around them. “It’s fine.”

His boyfriend cocks his head to the side. “If you say so,” he starts, sounding unconvinced, gracefully stepping out of the way to let a stranger hurry past him and then resuming his place next to Shirabu. His shins are splattered with mud and his feet are even dirtier.

Shirabu wrinkles his nose. “I just hope they’ll let us in with you looking like that,” he tries to joke, and lo and behold, Eita smiles a little.

Suddenly _(probably because Shirabu had distracted him)_ someone bumps into Eita, making both of them stumble, the stranger dropping something on the ground. The man immediately starts apologizing in broken Japanese, bowing a little and folding his hands in front of his body, but Eita just waves him off. “It’s fine, no big deal.”

The stranger lets out a nervous-sounding laugh, looking relieved. He’s completely drenched, his hair dripping and clothes sopping. “Actually,” he starts, “could you- maybe help me? I’ve gotten kind of lost. Are you locals? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to assume anything!”

Eita chuckles; it’s a throaty sound, resonating from deep inside his chest. “Of course, of course,” he says, eyes twinkling dangerously, “what are you looking for?”

“The Shinjuku Gyoen Park,” the stranger says, brushing his hair out of his eyes and smiling at both of them. “Do you know where I can find it?”

The ashen-haired creature next to Shirabu nods. “Yeah, of course. It’s right there-“ he points in the direction leading away from the park, his face kind and untroubled- “just go in that direction, turn left and you can’t miss it.”

Thanking them after apologizing again, the man sets off into the direction Eita had pointed. Shirabu, silent during the entire encounter, watches him go. “Why’d you point him in the wrong direction?” He asks once the stranger is out of earshot.

“I did?” Eita asks, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly. “My bad, old habits die hard.”

Shirabu just sighs, taking the pen the man dropped into his hands and twirling it around a little, murmuring a quiet enchantment to place it on the stranger to warp his sense of direction. He drags Eita to the side, outside of the man’s view, as he passes them again, this time walking in the right direction. His eyes are slightly clouded. “There we go,” he says.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, brat?” Eita asks under his breath, ruffling Shirabu’s neatly kempt hair in passing as he strides away, not even sparing one last look at the stranger he’d led astray. It’s an affectionate gesture, but it annoys him nonetheless.

Muttering, he tries to flatten his hair with the palms of his hands, but all that does is making him let go of the umbrella, which tumbles to the muddy ground, forever sullied. Shirabu narrows his eyes, staring at it as if it offended him personally until Eita bends down to pick it up, pressing it back into Shirabu’s hands.

Shirabu wants to snap at him, wants to chew him out for misguiding the stranger _(even though he thinks it was funny)_ , doesn’t want to accept the dirty umbrella, but then he sees Eita’s kind smile, the creases around his mouth, and he thinks better of it, accepts the umbrella with a curt nod of his head and stuffs it into his messenger bag, although he does place a small enchantment on it so it doesn’t stain his other things. “Let’s hurry,” he says, looking up at the Tower in the distance.

Eita’s smile deepens as he reaches down to grab Shirabu’s hand, tightly entwining their fingers and squeezing. His hands are as cold as they always are, but Shirabu doesn’t mind, for once. At least they’re dry.

He turns to his boyfriend, cupping Eita’s face with his free hand and pulling him down a little to press a chaste kiss onto his mouth, feeling how the corners of Eita’s soft lips turn upwards. The man in front of him tastes of iron and the clove cigarettes he sometimes smokes and something sickly sweet but it’s not unwelcome.

Just as Eita starts to deepen the kiss, Shirabu pulls away, patting Eita’s cheek with a little more force than strictly necessary. Ignoring the pouty look Eita gives him, he starts walking in the direction of the tower, dragging Eita behind him.

* * *

He still doesn’t get why Eita wanted to see this tower at all, but it’s not his place to judge.

His boyfriend is currently plastered against the big windowpane like an overexcited child, his hands leaving no imprints on the glass. How he can see anything in this murky, dark grey weather puzzles Shirabu, but then again, he grew up on the Orkney islands, so that might explain that.

Shirabu heaves a sigh as Eita waves for him to step closer. He doesn’t want to see the rain up close, but he also doesn’t want Eita to pout again. It’s just that, nothing else.

The Tokyo Tower isn’t too crowded – mainly because not that many people like to do sightseeing in the rain, but it’s only convenient for them. Nevertheless, he has to elbow his way through a few inhumane shapes and snogging couples before he’s situated next to Eita, watching the people on the ground scurry around like tiny ants, looking like a single raindrop could wipe them out.

But Eita is already pointing at something else. “Do you see that? There are so many tall houses here! It’s like a different kind of magic, isn’t it? One of metal and iron and steel.”

Shirabu, who didn’t exactly grow up in Tokyo but had been living here for quite a while, isn’t impressed at all. “I suppose it is,” he replies, shrugging. “You kind of get used to it. And besides, there’s nothing to see in this fog.”

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Eita turns to him. “You’re such a spoilsport, you know that?” He asks, and Shirabu knows it’s a rhetorical question.

“I know,” he replies nonetheless, because he isn’t one to step back and endure everything. “Taichi’s told me quite a few times now.”

Eita rolls his eyes. “As if Kawanishi’s any better.” He releases his grip on the glass, stepping back and looking to the side. Shirabu can see the gears turning in his head.

He grunts noncommittedly. “I suppose so. Anyway, what’d we come here for again?”

Silence greets him. Well, not silence – the bustling around them, the chatter of humans and creatures alike never fades. Shirabu almost thinks Eita didn’t hear him and he opens his mouth to repeat the question, but Eita beats him to it. “I dunno,” he replies, fidgeting a little. “I just thought it’d be cool to be that far up again. But now that I’ve been that far up – it kind of makes me think of Tendou. Never mind, I think I want to leave now.”

He shudders at the thought of Tendou – Shirabu doesn’t really get their relationship, but he doesn’t dare to ask either. Well, usually he doesn’t. “How so? You never told me either what kind of creature Tendou is. What’s up with that?”

It’s an old technique, a bait he’s used way too many times before, that had never worked in the first place; Eita always dodges his question. This time is no exception. “Oh by the way, did you know that Tendou adopted a sphinx cub?”

Actually, Shirabu hadn’t known. He raises one eyebrows, staring at Eita. “Why would he do that?”

Eita shakes his head in disbelief. “I honestly don’t know. He said something about it being abandoned and all I know is that he’s sharing custody with some kind of lawyer who’s supposed to be ‘super cute and also hot’ and coincidentally also his boyfriend and that Tsutomu – the cub – is ‘also like super cute’. His words.” He rolls his eyes.

“Definitely sounds like Tendou,” Shirabu remarks, humming a little. “I’m almost sorry for the poor creature that’s in his care.” He isn’t really worried – he’s seen Tendou with Eita’s little sister before. The girl spends most of her time at a kindergarten-facility-thing specifically designed for changelings, but she also sometimes visits Eita and Shirabu, and when she does, she always asks for Tendou, getting all pouty when he isn’t there.

Suddenly, a quiet chuckle drags him out of his thoughts. “It really does. Wanna go now? I’m bored.” Eita really wastes no time. Well, it’s fine by him.

“Sure,” Shirabu agrees, making his way over to the elevator, Eita close on his heels. “Next stop is the one I wanted to go to.”

Eita laughs loudly, the sound echoing around them. “Alright, to the sensual deprecation tank it is.”

“Sensory deprivation,” Shirabu automatically corrects him.

“That’s what I said.”

* * *

It’s pricier than Shirabu remembers it to be.

He sighs as he digs around in his wallet, paying for himself and Eita because his boyfriend still isn’t familiar with the workings of currency. Both the receptionist and Eita look at him, the former with a rather impatient look. Grumbling, he slaps the money down onto the counter, glaring at the attendant while she counts it.

The girl rolls her eyes, stuffing the money into the cash register, as she hands them their tickets. “Y’all got two hours,” she recites, her voice monotone. “Hope ya have a nice stay. Instructions are to be received inside.”

Shirabu wants to curse her _(not a bad curse, just something little)_ but Eita is faster than him, mumbling something under his breath as he strides past her. He can’t understand what his boyfriend is saying, but judging by Eita’s smile it can’t be anything good.

He doesn’t turn around to look at the receptionist, continuing forwards.

Then there’s the first hurdle – separation.

Another attendant, no, two, smile at them in unison. They look like twins, but they might as well be afterimages or duplicates of the same person. “Hello,” they greet them with kind smiles. “We hope you will find this enjoyable. You will now be led to your individual tanks.”

Eita shoots him a worried look. “Individual tanks? We can’t do this together?” He asks, his brows furrowed at the mere thought of being alone.

Shirabu shakes his head. “No, we can’t. But it’ll be fine, it’s just two hours. You’re in good hands-“ he glares at the attendant who just smiles in return. “Just do as they say and it’ll be fine.”

He’s almost proud of Eita when the older man nods curtly, leaning down to press a kiss onto Shirabu’s cheek and then moving forward to follow the employee leading him away. Eita doesn’t turn around as Shirabu watches him go, although his posture is a little straighter than usual. Must be the nerves.

Looking at his own attendant, the man motions for Shirabu to follow him which he does. They walk through a few similar-looking hallways, decorated with simple plastic plants and ugly paintings, and then halt in front of a sturdy looking door. The man opens it for Shirabu and then lets him pass through first; only when Shirabu is inside does he follow and close the door behind them.

“It’s all really simple,” he starts, but Shirabu cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

“I’ve been here before, I know the procedure.”

The man – actually his nametag reads something like Namatame – nods at him, pointing to a small list on the door. “That is alright. If you do need any help, there’s the list with all the steps you should take and you can always call the reception to request aid.” With that, he excuses himself, closing the door behind him.

Shirabu is alone.

He moves over to the comfy-looking chair, sitting down and starting to take off his shoes and socks, stuffing them in the locker. Quickly he wriggles out of the rest of his clothing as well, closing the locker’s door and taking a towel with him.

His eyes twitch a little as he moves over to the shower, but he steps inside nonetheless and cleans himself as fast as humanly possible, almost slipping on the slick floor when he scrambles out of it, the towel draped around him.

When he walks into the room with the tank, it looks like it always had, big and white and like a really ugly coffin. He opens the tub, surveying its insides, before carefully stepping inside, warm water immediately lapping at his shins. Shirabu heaves a sigh of contentment, sinking into the water and letting it swallow him whole. Only when he’s fully immerged does he close the lid and lay down, the salty water making him float.

It feels as if he’s in space – nowhere and everywhere at the same time, just in an empty abyss.

He knows that there’s a button to play some relaxing music, but he ignores it for now, instead focusing on the silence _(almost silence; he can hear the blood in his veins and his own heartbeat)._ Shirabu lets his mind steer clear of anything that troubled it before, focusing only on the present and the feeling of weightlessness.

It doesn’t take long until he falls asleep.

* * *

It’s probably only because he’s a mage that he doesn’t drown – he chides himself for his own stupidity once he wakes up, noticing that he only has ten minutes left.

With swift hands Shirabu opens the lid, the cool air hitting his skin and making goose bumps form on his exposed arms. He climbs out of the tank, drying his feet on the soft bath mat and wrapping the towel around himself, making his way over to the shower.

As he stands there under the hot jet of water, running his hands through his hair, he notices that its longer strands are either braided or tangled, sometimes even both. Shirabu groans and curses, combing his hands through his hair to detangle the knots, but it doesn’t do anything. He almost wants to grip the roots of his copper hair, ripping them out one by one.

Maybe that’s a bit drastic. He steps out of the shower, grabbing a new towel and moving over to the mirror to work on his hair. It looks atrocious like that, tangled into fairy-locks, but at least it isn’t salt-crusted anymore. Grabbing the brush form the well-lit vanity, he combs through his hair as forcefully as he can and styling it back into its usual form.

Then he moves over to his locker, taking out his clothes and the messenger bag and starts getting dressed. He tries do drag is out as much as humanly possible, not wanting to leave the room, but then he remembers Eita and he hurries up a little.

Outside of the room, the attendant is already waiting for him, smiling and asking how he’s feeling. The typical chitchat of an employee.

Shirabu only grunts and motions for him to lead him to the entrance of the flotation centre, which Namatame then does without initiating further conversations.

Even from far away he can make out Eita’s unmistakeable hair, almost blindingly white. The other is already waiting at the counter, chatting with the rude receptionist from before. He can’t hear anything they’re saying, but both of them are smiling.

Quietly he sidles up to Eita, intertwining their hands and tugging at Eita’s long fingers. “Ready to go?” He asks, glaring at the girl. She just blows a gum bubble, letting it pop loudly.

Eita nods. “I am,” he replies, his voice calm and collected although his eyes dart around the room.

Shirabu waits until they’re out of earshot and the door has closed behind them, the sound of the drizzling rain blocking out most of the noise, before he starts talking again. “Why did you tangle my hair? And how did you even get in?”

The creature only shrugs. “Dunno- I can’t even remember leaving my tank, to be honest.” He shudders a bit. “And? Did you get the inspiration you were looking for?” Eita swings their joined hands around a little.

He sighs sadly, running a hand through his hair and then rubbing his temples. “No, I fell asleep after a few minutes. What about you? Any hallucinations?”

Gnawing on his lower lip, Eita squeezes his hand a little tighter. “I saw the Shining Throne,” he remarks idly as if that isn’t anything special, his voice almost as blank as his face.

Shirabu’s breath hitches in his throat. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he apologizes as if there was anything he could’ve done to prevent it.

Eita waves him off with a flick of his hand, raising his face towards the sky to let the rain drizzle on his face. He closes his eyes. “It’s fine,” he says, although both of them know it _isn’t._

He doesn’t know what to say, so they walk in silence, only occasionally stealing glances at one another as if they’re afraid of confrontation when their whole relationship was based on exactly _that._

Shirabu is the first one to break the silence. “We don’t have to go back there,” he says, although he already misses the place.

Eita snorts. “Yeah, no. You’re not as grumpy as usual – if that’s the price I have to pay for you to be nice for once, then I’ll gladly do that.”

Elbowing him in the side _(and ignoring the cute little oof-sound Eita makes)_ he rolls his eyes. “I was the one who paid, dipshit.”

His boyfriend sheepishly rubs the back of his head, as well as the side Shirabu attacked. “True that,” he concedes. “Still, if it makes you happy then we can go back. Maybe not tomorrow though. Or the day after that.”

He sounds so earnest that it makes Shirabu wonder if this really is the creature he’d met back then on the Orkney islands.

But it is – they share the same hair and pale skin, the same voice and mischievous personality, the same soft lips and sharp eyes.

Perhaps he’s just gotten a little more human over time – not that Shirabu minds, of course.

Smiling to himself, he squeezes Eita’s hand tighter, ignoring the rain for now even as it makes his skin crawl and his hair hang into his face.

At least hordes of butterflies aren't flocking to his boyfriend right now, and if all goes well, then... maybe one day, he’ll ask Eita for his water-repellence charm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all remember how i said i was tired? Turns out im just sick haha dodged a bullet there


	4. May: The Hermit and The Hanged Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma meets his really weird neighbour Kuroo at a questionable time of day, but they bond nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont even know what to say.  
> i'm just tired and i feel like crying, can someone please get me
> 
> again, minor injury/blood warnings oof

There’s nothing worse than an annoying neighbour.

And Kenma Kozume’s neighbour is, undoubtedly, the worst of all.

He’s never spoken to the guy – actually, he hasn’t spoken to anyone at all in his apartment building _(apart from his landlord, the occasional greeting when he meets his neighbours on the stairs or when he steps in front of the door to get his deliveries)_ but he is almost certain that the guy living next to him is some unholy freak. Which shouldn’t be happening in the first place – Kenma had made sure to pick out the best apartment complex that he could find, even if it was the priciest as well.

It’s the fourth night now that he’s been disturbed by his neighbour setting an alarm in the middle of the night, and he’s _tired_ of it.

His bare feet slap against the wooden floor _(although the sound is only audible to him)_ as he marches over to the front door, his blanket wrapped around him. He tries not to drag it too much on the floor, afraid of accidentally knocking his coffee over.

Kenma doesn’t really sleep during the night, but that doesn’t mean he likes being disturbed at, what, half past two?

Irises blown wide in the dim light, his golden eyes dart around as he reaches for the handle of the door and lets go of the blanket in the same breath, not wanting to look too stupid. This is it, he’s going to tell the stranger off for annoying him, he’s not backing down, it’s his right after all.

The apartment is just a few metres over. Something inside of it crashes _(sounds like breaking glass)_ and Kenma winces, his hand hovering in front of the wooden door. Next to it is a nameplate reading Kuroo Tetsurou and he has to scour through his mind for an image corresponding to that name.

Oh. That black-haired guy who’s always grinning, right. The one he’s sure is a creature rather than a normal human as well, but still a creature he can’t place. If that’s the case, then maybe the noise during the night will be explained by that.

Kenma steels himself for the inevitable, trying to even his breathing as he knocks on the wooden door, just a short succession of his knuckles on the hard material.

It’s quiet inside the apartment, and even with his enhanced hearing he can’t pick up any sound – well, at least until someone, or something, seems to approach the door. It doesn’t sound like footsteps, somehow… softer, accompanied by light clicking sounds.

Something scrapes against the door, and slowly it opens in front of him. For a normal human, the dim light would make it impossible to see anything, but he isn’t a normal human.

Narrowing his eyes, he intently stares at the ajar door, at the blackness of the apartment behind it until it isn’t black anymore, until one large, glowing eye lights up the darkness, blinking slowly.

Kenma shies back, hissing through gritted, sharp teeth and baring his claws for the other to see.

Whatever freak his neighbour is, he doesn’t want to find out.

Carefully, as to not startle the beast in front of him, he advances backwards, eyes not leaving the thing. It blinks and paws at the door again, pushing it open all the way and for the first time, Kenma can really see his neighbour in broad daylight _(or the light of the moon, if you will)._

His neighbour is – well, a dog. Kind of. A black dog, larger than any other one, with glowing eyes and slightly scruffy fur, panting softly. There’s a dark stain on the ground beneath him, still growing, and Kenma’s gaze follows the blood that periodically drips off the hound’s – shoulder blade? Must be the shoulder blade.

They stare at each other for a second, neither daring to make a move. That is, until the dog averts his – its? – eyes, looking down and then trotting back into the apartment, leaving the door wide open.

Kenma’s conflicted – he knows he should be going back into the safety of his own bedroom, but at the same time, this could something worth blogging about.

He sighs, rubbing his temple with one hand _(no claws, just fingernails)._ Curiosity is what killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back to life.

Silently, he follows the dog into the apartment so similar to his own.

It’s tidy inside, he immediately notices. Tidier than his, to be exact. The floor is the same, dark brown, but the furniture is completely different, which is to be expected.

Following the sounds of paws on the ground, he ends up in a small bathroom _(several chemicals are lined up on shelves here),_ but instead of seeing the same, large dog as before, there now is a young, black-haired man sitting on the edge of the tub, awkwardly holding his right arm, speckled with blood, and giving him a nervous-looking grin. “What’s up?” He asks.

Kenma scowls. “Your alarm is annoying. Please don’t use it anymore,” he says, instead of addressing the bigger issue, fiddling with his fingers behind his back. It feels like he’s been called in the principal’s office despite having finished school a few years prior. He hates this feeling.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” the man grins, extending his uninjured arm. “Actually wanted to introduce myself earlier, but I never really got around to it. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.”

It’s bizarre – his neighbour is a lunatic. A perfect thing to blog about, to be fair. “Kozume Kenma,” he replies easily, and the man nods. “How did you get that?” He points to the gash on the other’s arm.

“Oh, that’s a really stupid story, you know, I’d rather not embarrass myself any more,” he laughs, throwing his head back and immediately wincing when it seemingly hurts.

Kenma just looks at him with a raised eyebrow, and that seems to do the job well enough.

“Alright, alright,” Kuroo relents, still smirking. Kenma just wants to wipe it off his face. “I was out on the street, you know, as one sometimes is, guarding the crossroads with one of my buddies. And I guess I kind of look like a regular big bad black dog, don’t I?” It’s a rhetorical question, so Kenma doesn’t answer. “Yeah, so some kids mistook me for a black dog, the portent of death, which they did not like and yeah, funny story isn’t it? I’m not a black dog by the way.”

Rolling his eyes, Kenma leans against the door. “You got beaten up a by a bunch of children?”

Kuroo just shrugs. “They had knives. Kids these days really don’t get that the barking’s the thing they should be afraid of, not the omen itself.”

Cryptic. Kenma sighs, rubbing his eyes a little as he regards Kuroo, still slouched on his bathtub, bleeding all over the white porcelain. “Do you have any antiseptics? And maybe gauze?”

His neighbour whistles lowly. “Are you going to patch me up? Should I remove my shirt?” He winks at Kenma.

Trying to supress his gag-reflex, Kenma just rolls his eyes. “Never mind, I think you can take care of yourself. Good night.” He turns around to leave, but Kuroo unexpectedly lunges forward, trying to catch his arm in an iron-like grip. Not that he succeeds – Kenma’s agility and speed are matched by none.

“Hey, sorry, I was just kidding,” Kuroo apologizes, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” His gaze lingers a second too long on Kenma’s arm, where the sleeve has ridden up a little, and self-consciously the blond draws the sleeve of his hoodie down, concealing his skin as much as possible.

“Alright,” Kenma concedes, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His eyes scan the chemicals on the shelves and near the sink, until he picks up a little, brown bottle without its label, holding it out to Kuroo. “That it?”

Kuroo shakes his head. “Wouldn’t use that if I were you, that’s formaldehyde. Try the first vial on the left side of the cabinet.” He tries pointing in that direction but his face contorts in pain.

Kenma nods, carefully placing the formaldehyde _(he doesn’t even want to know why Kuroo has formaldehyde in the first place)_ where he’d found it and moving over to the shelf with swift strides, picking up the vial and some gauze.

Then he walks back over to where Kuroo has slid down the bathtub and is now resting against its outer wall, lazily staring up at him with hazel eyes. If he were standing, he would definitely be taller than Kenma, and he seems to be the athletic type, with broad shoulders and a muscular frame. His hair is messy and he has a natural bedhead – well, it’s either that, or he just styles his hair this way which Kenma hopes isn’t the case.

Kneeling down next to the man-dog-thing, he uncorks the vial and, with one hand, rolls up Kuroo’s shirt. Kenma can feel the other wince beneath his cold hands, but he works fast, applying the medicine directly onto Kuroo’s skin and then wrapping it all with the gauze. “Should be fine now,” he remarks once he’s made sure that it is tightly sealed.

Kuroo nods. “Thank you,” he says, inclining his head a little. “How shall I repay you?”

“You don’t have to,” Kenma retorts, averting his eyes and instead counting the tiles on the floor, hands awkwardly hovering in mid-air. Clearing his throat to get rid of the lump inside it, he shoves his left hand up his right sleeve, nervously rubbing at the fur there until it emits a few light sparks, prickling on his skin. He can feel his tail curl around his legs, safely hidden under his clothes, and it’s a welcome sensation in this new territory. “Guess I’ll be going then.”

He moves to stand, but Kuroo reaches out again; his hand isn’t touching Kenma’s skin but instead hovering over it, as if he’s waiting for permission. “Stay for a while?” The man asks, cocking his head to the side. “I could make us some coffee, or whatever you like. Tea? Hot chocolate?”

Kenma heaves a sigh, leaning back on the heels of his feet to have a better look at Kuroo. He doesn’t seem to have any malicious or ill intent, and besides, even if a fight broke out, he’s probably faster than the large dog. Not wanting to say anything, he nods.

Kuroo beams at him. “Great! That’s great.” One hand resting on the edge of the bathtub, he heaves himself upwards, stumbling a little and, once he’s safe on his feet, confidently striding over to where the kitchen is located. Their apartment’s layouts are indeed very similar.

“So what is it?” He calls out, which prompts Kenma to get up as well and wander over to where Kuroo is standing in front of an electric kettle, patiently waiting for him. “Tea? Coffee? Choc?”

He thinks back to the three coffees that are already in his bloodstream. Tea would be the best option for now. “I’ll take a tea. Green, if you have that.”

Nodding to let Kenma know that he heard his request, Kuroo rummages through his cupboard, grinning dumbly when he pulls out a half-squashed box of green tea. “Is vanilla-flavoured green tea alright as well?”

Kenma shrugs. “It’s fine.”

Humming, Kuroo turns the kettle on and then prepares a cup of tea for Kenma and a cup of coffee for himself. The water is boiling slowly and he walks over to the kitchen window, looking expectantly at Kenma. “Do you mind if I let in some fresh air?”

It’s not like Kenma despises fresh air – or the world outside. It’s more so that he just doesn’t like the prejudice and the negative connotations that come with being something else, something not fully human.

“It’s fine,” he retorts again. It is fine – this is Kuroo’s apartment, he can do whatever he wants.

His neighbour opens the window slightly, and immediately the relatively warm air of late spring wafts into the room – the smell of fumes and leaves and take-away food and everything else the city has to offer.

Kenma hasn’t been outside in a long time. His feet bring him over to the window, coming to a halt next to Kuroo, and together they stare at the outside world. The stars are barely visible in the city around them, ablaze with light, but the glowing windows of skyscrapers look like stars themselves.

It truly is a magical sight.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Kuroo remarks, but when Kenma turns to him, the other isn’t staring at the city, but rather at him.

He takes a few steps backwards. “It is.”

Suddenly, the sound of boiling water subsides and Kuroo looks over at the kettle. “Would you look at that!” He exclaims, striding back over to the counter and pouring the water in both mugs, gesturing for Kenma to take a seat at his table.

The blond does as he’s instructed, accepting the cup pushed in his direction with a nod of gratitude. It’s steaming, and the smell of vanilla hangs in the air.

Kuroo sits down across him, nursing his own coffee, holding it in front of his chin as if trying to shield his face.

For a moment, it’s silent, just the sound of lone cars down there on the streets and the cries of lost birds.

“You’re a dog,” Kenma says, and then immediately cringes at how stupid that sounds.

Kuroo chuckles.

“You’re some kind of dog,” he decides to elaborate, “so why didn’t you get back at those kids?” He eyes him, looking for the smallest trace of – what? What is he looking for, exactly?

Shrugging, the man takes a sip of his coffee and then contorts his face when it apparently burns his mouth. “They were children; they probably didn’t know any better. I don’t blame them, it’s the adults who are at fault for teaching those kids false things and prejudices.”

He clicks his tongue, staring blankly at the wall for a few seconds. “Uh-huh.”

Kenma had had a pretty easy childhood – he’d grown up with loving parents and a good house in a nice neighbourhood. He’d had friends _(just a few, but they’d been really good friends)_ and he’d had hobbies. He has no real reason to dislike the outside world that much, but he still does.

Kuroo lets out a guffaw. “You don’t sound very convinced.” He props up one hand on the table and then rests his cheek on it, watching Kenma with sly eyes that seem more fitting for a cat than a giant dog. “But tell me, what are you? You aren’t human.”

Freezing up at the last few words, he shoots Kuroo a glare, hiding his face with his tea and playing with the string connected to the teabag. “That’s none of your business,” he presses out between tight lips.

Kuroo is still grinning, not perturbed at all. “That’s fine,” he says cheerily. “Aren’t you curious about what I am, though? Apart from the dog part?”

Kenma shrugs; on the one hand, he isn’t all that curious about a stranger’s life, but on the other hand, this could make a pretty interesting blog entry. He decides to humour Kuroo. “What are you?”

Placing his hands on the table in front of him, Kuroo winks at him. “You have to guess.”

This really isn’t worth the trouble. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. “God. Okay, you said you aren’t a black dog, per se. So a subtype of a black dog?”

Kuroo still has that annoying smile on his face, watching him carefully. Kenma grits his teeth, feels how his sharp canines pierce his lower lip.

“You aren’t a werewolf either. It’s not the full moon yet, and you certainly aren’t big enough to be a Fenrir.”

His neighbour has the audacity to mock-pout at that, as if Kenma had just insulted him. “You seem to know a lot about other creatures, don’t you?” Kuroo inquires, and Kenma just shrugs.

“It’s part of the job,” he explains.

“A Hunter? I wouldn’t have pegged you as one, to be honest,” Kuroo’s voice has that curious tone to it that just really pushes Kenma’s buttons. “I’ve never seen you leave the building and you _are_ rather frail.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not a Hunter. I blog in my free time and analyse collected information to relay it to Hunters. Of course I have to be knowledgeable.” It certainly is a well-paying job.

Kuroo whistles through his teeth. “Gotta be careful around you, then. Not that you sell me out.” He winks again, as if all of this is one big joke. “Anyhow, do you know what I am?”

Kenma narrows his eyes, taking a large sip of his tea, which now has the perfect temperature, to keep Kuroo waiting. “I do,” he finally announces. “A Cù-Sìth.”

“Nice,” Kuroo remarks, “I’m impressed, really. Most people would never have known. How did you figure it out?”

“It’s easy, just a simple method of elimination. You’re not a werewolf, but a subtype of black dogs. Your fur is, if you watch closely enough, not entirely black but rather a really dark green. You said something about watching over crossroads and how your barks are more dangerous than the sight of you; according to legend, your kind will occasionally let out three barks that can be heard for miles. Those who hear the barking of the Cù-Sìth must reach safety by the third bark or they shall be overcome with terror to the point of death. With all the info you’ve given me, it’s pretty easy to identify you.”

Kuroo’s jaw is slack when he’s done talking, Kenma notices with smug self-satisfaction. “That’s- wow. And you really didn’t google or anything?”

He shakes his head. “This is what I’ve been trained for.”

And it truly is. While he really likes blogging or creating different kinds of videos, bills have to be paid as well, and this is a job like every other – well, not like any other: he doesn’t actually have to leave his flat to work, which is a bonus. It had been hard, learning all of the defining characteristics of the different creatures that thrived on this earth, but he’d just seen it as another challenge, graduating with top marks.

Burying his head in his hands, Kuroo lets out a throaty chuckle. “Jesus Christ, that’s insane. I’m kind of intimated, but it’s good to know that you can solve my murder case when it finally happens.”

Kenma peers through his bangs, hands still wrapped around the mug; it’s comforting, somehow. “’When’? Not if?”

The more Kuroo laughs, the weirder it sounds. He sounds like a hyena, showing off his teeth, Kenma notes, but maybe that’s just the dog-blood in his veins. “It tends to happen more often than one would think.” He winks again. He seems to do that a lot.

That’s… actually kind of intriguing. “Why? What do you work as?”

Kuroo sends him an amused look. “I majored in forensics, which is my main source of income, but I take care of some light patrolling at night. Not actually allowed to do Hunting.” He sighs, tracing the rim of his cup with his index finger.

“Why aren’t you allowed to Hunt professionally?” It’s a valid question – Hunting is very popular as of right now, especially with younger creatures who just want to have some fun and test out the extent of their powers. It’s a bit of a hassle to receive the certificate, sure, but it isn’t impossible.

“I don’t know – guess the agency just doesn’t like dogs,” Kuroo jokes to lighten the mood, but his face is tense and his eyebrows are drawn together.

Kenma stares into his tea, the steam rising into his face and warming it. He doesn’t really know what to say, because honestly, what could he say? Sorry?

The only thing audible is their even breathing and the sound or faraway sirens. It should be too late to have conversations like this, but Kenma doesn’t really care either way.

Unexpectedly, Kuroo clears his throat to catch his attention. “It’s whatever,” he says, raising the cup to his mouth once again but not drinking from it. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping right now? I’m sorry if I kept you awake.”

Shaking his head, Kenma averts his eyes to look around the room. He hasn’t paid much attention to it before, but, compared to his own and despite the lack of messiness, it seems lived-in. There are pictures taped to the door of the fridge, photographs of Kuroo and what looks like his mother and a few other people Kenma doesn’t recognize. The shelves here aren’t filled with chemicals but rather with spices and herbs and the counter is empty except for a large knife block. “I wasn’t sleeping, don’t worry. I prefer to work at night when it isn’t so bright.”

Kuroo, watching him over the rim of his cup, regards him with a curious look. “How strange; it seems a lot of nocturnal creatures reside in this building, then.”

What is he supposed to say? Kenma shrugs, shifting on his chair a little. “I suppose,” he answers. He hasn’t really met any neighbours except Kuroo.

Silence settles between them once again, only broken by the sound of them sipping on their beverages. Kuroo is looking out the window, his profile turned to Kenma, and the blond uses the opportunity to fully examine his neighbour. Kuroo seems tired; there are dark bags beneath his eyes and his hair is hanging down his face, matted and tangled in places. His hands _(especially the right one)_ shake a little as they hold onto the cup, just a slight tremor, but it’s noticeable.

Finally, the older man _(Kenma just assumes that he’s older)_ sets down his cup with an audible thud, facing Kenma once again. Hastily he turns away, not wanting to be caught staring.

That same, infuriating smirk is on Kuroo’s lips again, and his eyes crinkle a little around the edges. “Say, Kozume-san,” he starts, but Kenma raises his hand to cut him off. Immediately, Kuroo’s mouth snaps shut.

“Actually, just Kenma is fine,” he says, and Kuroo nods.

“Kenma, then. I want to return the favour-“ Kenma doesn’t point out that Kuroo could’ve easily dealt with the wound himself- “and I’m going out to eat with a few friends of mine next Saturday and they’re dating, which makes it kind of embarrassing for me because I’m basically the third wheel, so I was thinking that you- I don’t know, maybe that you’d like to join us?”

Kenma narrows his eyes; he’s pretty sure Kuroo’s a little flushed, even though it’s hard to make out in the dim light and with his tanned complexion. “Are you asking me on a double date?” He asks bluntly, because there’s no need to beat around the bush.

Kuroo’s head snaps up at that, the smirk still present on his face although it’s slightly wobbly. “Maybe?”

He clicks his fingernails against the almost empty cup of tea. “I’m sorry that I have to decline, but I don’t like going out, especially with people I don’t know.” He watches as Kuroo’s face falls ever so slightly. Soon enough the other would give up.

Before he can propose to leave, Kuroo’s already babbling on. “Yeah- I mean, that’s fair, I understand if you are still wary. So- uhm, how about I invite you over to dinner on Saturday, then? Just the two of us? I’ll even cook whatever you want”

It elicits a small chuckle from Kenma, and he covers his mouth with his free hand. “You shouldn’t ditch your friends for someone you just met,” he simply says, checking the time on his watch. A quarter to three. “I should get going; I’ve still got work to do.”

But Kuroo isn’t done. “Oh- it’s fine, I see them every other day. Just this once? You could always leave anytime, but… give it a chance?”

That guy certainly is trying his best. Kenma stands up, setting the cup down. “Thank you for the tea, Kuroo-san,” he says, inclining his head a little. “And I guess, if that’s the case and it really doesn’t bother you… then I will accept your offer.”

Kuroo’s eyes light up and his smirk becomes a little more confident. “Great! That’s great, really- oh and just Kuroo is fine, by the way. I’m looking forward to it. Saturday at eight? Is that fine with you?” He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. Or his long limbs. Or anything, really. It’s kind of cute.

“That’s fine by me. I’m looking forward to it as well.”

His neighbour leads him over to the door _(Kenma would’ve found the way on his own)_ and opens it for him, leaning against the doorframe. “And you’ll come, yeah?”

Kenma nods. “I’ll come,” he promises, turning around to leave. “See you.”

He doesn’t hear Kuroo’s door close until he’s in his own apartment, his back against his own wooden door as he tries to calm his erratic heartbeat.

Enough excitement for one day.


	5. June: The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama's got a free day and he wants to make the best out of it, but on his way he meets a few people, including someone he thinks he should know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back; tired and unmotivated, but at least not sick anymore.
> 
> i really hated writing this chapter, as i had no ideas for it, so i kinda just... went off. it's weird, i dont like it at all and eh
> 
> i hope the other chapters will be easier for me to write, but i cant promise anything

Back then, when Kageyama had still been a child, people didn’t like him very much. They still don’t, but now it’s for a completely different reason.

He isn’t a bad omen per se – people just don’t understand that and judge him by what they see, and what they think they know about him and his kind.

At first it hadn’t been that bad; his mother had shown Kageyama baby pictures of himself, all chubby and exactly what you’d imagine a baby to look like, but all of that had changed when he’d started sprouting feathers, as black as the sky on a particularly starless night, and it only got worse by the time he’d first fully turned.

It had been fun, soaring through the air and feeling the wind grazing his skin and ruffling his feathers; it had been fun, until he had to land and people started pointing at him. Flying beings weren’t uncommon, really, but even in comparison to the others he stood out, an anomaly, abnormality.

 _Yatagarasu,_ they had called him behind his back, _three-legged freak of nature, a bad sign, not to be approached under any circumstances._

When he had told his mother, she’d been furious. Not at him, but at their neighbours and even what he considered to be his friends. It had been embarrassing when she chewed them out for what they’d said, mostly because he didn’t know why it was bad to be called a _Yatagarasu._ Honestly, the kids at his school called each other worse names, and most of them didn’t even bat an eye anymore. It was just normal.

Asking to her to explain what that meant only made her sad, so Kageyama had decided to just look it up on one of the computer’s in school, browsing through different articles and even Wikipedia.

At first, it didn’t seem all that bad. Yatagarasu was just another manifestation of the will of Heaven, symbolizing divine intervention in human affairs, nothing more than a mark of rebirth and rejuvenation. Of course many people _(not that there were many of them left who still believed)_ didn’t like any gods meddling in their affairs, but rebirth sounded pretty good to him, even though he wasn’t a very religious person himself.

Still confused, he’d gotten up from his seat, turning off the computer and strolling over to a teacher – he needed more answers, better ones. When he had asked his question, childish curiosity paired with the want to fit in, the teacher had just snarled at him, watching him with disdainful eyes.

“It just means,” the teacher had said, “that you will bring the next big war, boy. The Yatagarasu is a creature that has cleaned up after great battles and symbolizes the renaissance after such tragedy. Your appearance is leading us into disaster. It’s an omen.” She had then turned on her heels and stalked off, leaving him puzzled.

Kageyama blew all caution into the wind by, once again, telling his mother about the encounter. A bad choice, he soon realized, because she almost immediately pulled him out of his current school and moved across the country to live in Tokyo, where people apparently were more accepting of his nature, whatever that was supposed to mean.

So that’s where he lives now – Tokyo. Most of what people said about it is true; people don’t look twice when a three-legged crow flies past their heads, moving through the traffic and avoiding pedestrians by second nature.

He really likes that about the big city. The anonymity, the ignorance, the ease with which people accept him as just another creature that exists on this planet.

Because more often than not, it feels as if the weight of the entire world has to be carried by him, and it’s suffocating.

But none of that matters on this day – it’s warm, the sun is shining and no cloud is in sight, which is both bad and good. On the one hand, he really likes the blue of the sky and the warmth of the sun kissing his skin, on the other hand, the blackness of his plumage does nothing to reflect the heat bearing down on him; no, it rather absorbs it, making the beats of his wings sluggish and slow.

Kageyama isn’t sure what he’s supposed to be doing right now at all – it’s one of the rare, free days that come with being a professional volleyball player, and although he’d like to hone his skills a little more, he doesn’t mind. Now that Ushijima had taken some time off for ‘private reasons’ he hadn’t disclosed, it didn’t matter all that much. But then of course you could also argue that Ushijima had never been that active again ever since he’d scored that job as a lawyer.

It’s enough to drive him up the wall, to grind his teeth together until they feel like they’re about to break off; the casualness with which some of his teammates regard the sport truly annoys him, but he doesn’t comment on it. At least not when they’re nearby. Not anymore.

Heaving a deep sigh, he runs his hands across the baby-feathers on his arms; they feel silky beneath his fingers, well-cared for and soft. Kageyama is sitting on the terrace of the flat he’s renting out, all spacious and empty and monochrome. He always makes sure to keep the inside cool, his air conditioner working almost 24/7 during summer, so when he comes back inside from sunbathing for a while he can enjoy the chill in the air, the way it makes his skin tingle.

His terrace is a nice place with a great view over the city, and if Kageyama wanted to, he could just leap right over the railing and let himself fall, let himself be carried by the breeze, but he doesn’t. Last time he’d done that, the person living in the apartment below him had called an ambulance, and he really doesn’t want that to repeat itself.

So instead he opts to just sit there on his comfortable chair, still in his running clothes, and with a cold glass of milk in his hands as well as a newspaper next to him. The sun isn’t as brutal that early in the day, its kind rays serving to warm his face and body, and lazily he blinks towards the horizon, now and then staring at the bustle of humans and other creatures on the ground below, looking almost like ants from this far up.

Tracing the rim of his glass of milk, he watches as little drops of condensed water run down the smooth surface, pooling on the table and leaving wet imprints. Even though it’s his free day Kageyama only really wants to play volleyball. It’s kind of boring without.

His mother would call it an unhealthy obsession, his _(former)_ friends would call him crazy, but none of them, not even a single person understands the bond he has with volleyball, the way it makes him feel like he is flying even without his wings, the way people look up to him and don’t care about him being a bad omen.

Kageyama gets up from his seat, taking his now empty glass with him and stalks inside, depositing it in the dishwasher. His apartment is mostly varying shades of white and grey and black; he doesn’t mind, he’s never really been one for much colour and the splashes of blue and orange that the small aquarium and the hung up tricots provide are enough for him.

Apropos aquarium – he needs to feed his fish. They swim peacefully in the limited space they claim for themselves, unaware of what’s going on outside of their small tank. Kageyama cocks his head to the side as they zigzag through the water, avoiding each other and the glass panels at each side. Removing the top panel, he throws a generous amount of fish food inside and then watches them as they devour each tiny piece, always trying to get the biggest ones first. Oh, to be a simple fish.

But even that doesn’t satiate his thirst for movement, action, _something,_ it’s just another means of distracting himself. There’s something he needs to do, he just knows and it makes him uneasy. 

The sun is now starting to rise higher, sending its warm light into his flat and giving each piece of furniture a golden glow. A glow that reminds him of something, something he can’t remember very well as if watching through a wall of fog – maybe not something, but rather _someone_ , with a smile like the sun on a hot day.

_A boy his age, warm eyes and warm hair._

Kageyama furrows his brows – a boy? He doesn’t know anyone like that, has never known a boy with fiery hair either in his hometown or Tokyo. It’s not like he’s actively been trying to make friendships, after all.

_A human._

Now that’s even more unlikely, as humans tend to stay away from him, too scared about what his appearance might mean for them and their loved ones. Humans don’t mingle with him and humans sure as heck don’t have that sun kissed, sun loved look to them.

Rubbing his temples, he plops down on the leather couch, resting his head on the cool pillow. It annoys him greatly that he can’t seem to remember the boy, doesn’t even know his name even though he’s so prominent in his memories, so closely linked to the sun, of all things. The sun, which he should know everything about. 

Maybe someone he’d met on the street some time or another? A barista in a local café he frequented? A fan at one of his games? An opponent on the court?

It hurts to think about the boy, feels as if someone had set fire to his hair, and Kageyama clicks his tongue in frustration, letting his gaze roam his apartment for a single clue, _anything_ , just an idea. 

But there is nothing that points to the boy’s existence, no record of him meddling with Kageyama’s small world, no proof of him ever encountering such a person.

Kageyama gets up and stretches, the joints of his body popping quietly, and lazily he walks over to the door to grab his keys. He should rest, maybe take a shower and change out of his running clothes, he knows that, but if he stays here, all he’ll think about is the unknown boy, and in the end that’ll drive him mad.

He’s not one to overthink things, usually, but this is different. He _knows_ that they’re connected somehow, but he can’t put his finger on it, doesn’t know why he should remember the boy.

Stuffing the keys into his pockets, he heads out; the sun is relentlessly burning down on him, almost mocking his attempts to find answers, as he makes his way over to – wherever. The gym didn’t seem like such a good option in this blazing heat and without Ushijima or the others there, he didn’t feel like heading over to the sports hall. Of course he could try playing with an amateur _(someone would always be there)_ , but that’d only make him angrier, so he discards that thought fairly fast.

Instead he strolls past the little shops and cafés, searching for something that might grab his interest, but everything kind of looks the same, dull and colourless when compared to the boy. The boy who could reach the sun, no, the boy who _was_ the sun.

It must be the sun, getting to his head – otherwise he wouldn’t be thinking stuff like this, surely. Kageyama watches his reflection in one of the shop windows, his pinched expression, tight-lipped frown, the small feathers on his exposed arms, in stark contrast to his white skin. If one didn’t know any better, they could mistake him for a simple bird-like creature, maybe even a phoenix if he got lucky. As long as he isn’t flying, no one will know.

But he likes to fly way too much for that to ever happen.

Averting his eyes, he turns back to the busy street, swarming with people of all ages – and promptly almost topples over something soft on the ground, only able to keep his balance by holding onto the windowpane next to him. The barista inside glares at him, probably for making it dirty.

Kageyama has other things to worry about right now, though. Like reprimanding the thing – or rather being – that made him stumble in the first place, watching it as it looks up to him with big, curious eyes, its lower lip quivering. 

It’s a sphinx child – he’d recognize those wings and that lower body everywhere. Not that he’s seen many sphinxes in his life. It has the audacity to grin up at him when it rights itself from where it was sitting on the ground for whatever reason, kicked-puppy look soon forgotten. Its face is still young-looking, with soft, black hair framing its narrow face and slanted eyes, staring straight at him.

Suddenly, their moment is broken by someone yelling “Tsutomu, what the hell are you doing?” and rushing towards them, scooping up the child and holding it to their chest.

A young man, maybe a few years older than Kageyama, with bright red hair _(not the same fiery hair as the boy’s, he notes sadly)_ is staring at him, the child, Tsutomu, trying to get away and playfully nibbling at the other’s arm. “Don’t I know you?” The stranger asks without apologizing for his child’s rudeness. Is it his child? Could normal humans produce sphinxes? Maybe the mother was a sphinx?

Questions over questions flooded Kageyama’s mind, making his brain hurt again. “I don’t know if you know me, but I certainly don’t know you,” he answers honestly, because he’d surely remember such a… striking image of a man.

The stranger chuckles, shaking his head as he pats Tsutomu to calm him down. “Alright, I think I know why you look so familiar. Kageyama, isn’t it?” A fan, maybe? The man turns away slightly, looking over his shoulder and whistling at the top of his voice, which attracts the attention of multiple other pedestrians.

Multiple pedestrians, and a large guy, making his way through the crowd to them and coming to a halt next to the stranger, one hand curling around the redhead’s waist. “Hello, Kageyama. It’s nice to see you again.”

It’s Ushijima, right here, right in front of him. Peachy, really damn peachy. “Hello Ushijima-san,” he greets back politely, inclining his head a little. His eyes wander over the little… what? Friend group? Kageyama isn’t good with social interactions, but the way Ushijima’s hand lays on the stranger’s waist, it doesn’t look all that friendly, rather more… intimate? “Is that the reason why you took some time off?”

Ushijima nods. “It is. I’ve been spending a lot of time with Satori and Tsutomu here. I hope you do not mind, and are not slacking off. I expect you to be in top form when I come back.”

Kageyama’s left eye twitches. “Of course, Ushijima-san. I’ll continue to do my best. If you’ll excuse me, there’s something else I have to do.” Which is a lie. He doesn’t actually have anything to do, he just wants to escape this horribly awkward encounter.

But the stranger – Satori, Ushijima had called him – raises one hand that isn’t holding the child, motioning for him to stop in his tracks. “Actually, could you do us a little favour? We wanna grab something from that shop-“ he inclines his head to the shop window Kageyama had been watching before- “but Tsutomu is banned in there for… some reason or another, and we don’t wanna leave him out here all alone. Can you keep an eye on him for a sec?”

He sees the mischievous twinkle in Satori’s eyes as well as Ushijima’s confused look, and he knows he should decline and get going, but… goddammit. “Fine,” he presses out between tight lips, scrunching up his nose a little. “Fine, I’ll watch him. Just don’t take too long.”

“Great, just dandy!” Tendou chirps, pressing Tsutomu into his arms _(he hadn’t agreed to hold the kid)_ and dragging Ushijima into the shop by his hand, waving at Kageyama. The child is quite heavy in his arms, and its fur is soft and warm, as it snuggles closely against him, purring all the while.

It blinks lazily. “You look just like me,” Tsutomu says, eyes lighting up with joy as it looks up at Kageyama’s face. “We have the same hair!”

Kageyama shakes his head. “You’re a sphinx,” he tells it in a serious voice, “and besides, I don’t have a bowl cut. We look nothing alike.”

The child giggles, pawing at Kageyama’s arm, although it’s careful not to accidentally scratch him in the process. “You’re funny. How do you know my parents?”

Cocking his head to the side, Kageyama stares at the sphinx in confusion. “Your parents? I don’t think I’ve ever met them,” he replies lamely. Surely he’d remember meeting a sphinx. Not even his memory could be that bad.

That just serves to make Tsutomu laugh, which probably is a good thing; his entire body shakes in Kageyama’s arms, and for a second he’s afraid he’ll suddenly let go. Unconsciously, he tightens his grip on the child. “My parents! The ones who just went into the store, you know?”

Oh. _Oh._ That was what Tsutomu meant, then. Kageyama grunts noncommittedly, thinking back to how he’d met Ushijima. “I don’t know Satori-san at all, but I’ve been playing volleyball with Ushijima-san for a few years now. I am the team’s official setter, you know?” He can’t help but boast a little, even if it’s just in front of a child.

“You are?” Tsutomu asks, amazement in his eyes. “That’s so cool! Dad sometimes plays volleyball with me, although I’m not very good at it-“ he holds up his paws as if to underline the statement-“ and when I grow up I wanna be a professional volleyball player as well! Will you set to me when I’m older, Kateyama?”

“Kageyama,” he automatically corrects the child, before realising what it had said. “Yeah, sure. I’ve never played with a creature like you before. And you won’t be able to fly on the court.”

Tsutomu deflates at that. “Aw man, I was looking forward to that part! Why do I even have wings if I’m never allowed to use them for anything?” He drops his forehead onto Kageyama’s arm, sighing sadly. “That sucks!”

He nods in understanding. “It does. But you learn to live with it and play well without using your enhancements and advantages, as the humans like to call them. It’s not all that bad, really.” Hesitantly, he raises his hand to brush it across Tsutomu’s sand-coloured fur, ruffling it lightly.

“Are you special as well, Kageyama?” Tsutomu asks, his big, dark eyes focused on the setter. “What’s your specialty?”

Who’s he to lie to a child? And why should he be ashamed of what he is? “I’m a Yatagarasu,” he answers honestly, watching to see Tsutomu’s reaction.

The child just furrows its eyebrows. “I don’t know what that means,” he admits after a long silence. “Can you explain it to me?”

He sets to answer the child, but at that exact moment, the door opens and Satori and Ushijima step outside, the latter laden with bags and other stuff. The redhead strides over to them, easily picking Tsutomu out of Kageyama’s arms. “Thanks for watching him,” he grins as Tsutomu paws at his arms again, complaining all the while about ‘how this was unfair and he could walk by himself’ and that he ‘wasn’t done talking with Kageyama yet’.

Ushijima’s face is expressionless as he thanks Kageyama as well, inclining his head, careful not to drop the bags. “It seems Tsutomu has taken a liking to you,” he responds calmly, eyeing a struggling Satori. “Maybe come over sometime? We could even practice together.”

He doesn’t like the idea of showing up at Ushijima’s, but if that was what he had to do to get in some extra practice, then… “Alright,” he agrees, almost wanting to shake Ushijima’s hand to settle the deal. “I’ll come over sometime. Just don’t expect me to always take care of him.”

That elicits a small smile from Ushijima – something he only sees when the other lands a perfect hit. “Of course not. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

Satori seems to have gotten Tsutomu under control, stroking his head gently as he waves at Kageyama with the other. “See ya, Yamayama,” he says, and Kageyama inwardly cringes at the new nickname. “Thanks again, you were a really big help.”

Even Tsutomu waves at him with his little paw, pouting expression on his face as he’s being carried away. “See you, Kageyama! And don’t forget our promise!”

Nodding to show Tsutomu that he does, in fact, remember, he watches them leave, blending in with the crowd until they’re nothing but a big, colourful blob. He hopes that Tsutomu won’t have to face the same prejudice he had to face, but that’s probably just wishful thinking.

And anyhow, there are bigger problems, as it’s getting warm in the sun. He moves aside, out of the direct light and into the shadow of an overhang, providing some shade and coolness. He still isn’t closer to finding the answer to his original question. Not a step closer to finding the boy that embodies the sun.

He doesn’t even know why he’s so fixated on a boy he doesn’t even know, but he just is, and it’s seriously driving him insane. With narrowed eyes he watches as people pass by, a few of them sending him wary glances as if he’s the weirdo. Most of them ignore him though, focusing on not running into others or simply staring down at their phones.

It’s gets boring rather fast – at least until he spots something else, something peculiar. Something that stands out against the grey background, a splash of colour in a monochrome landscape.

A shock of orange hair, bobbing through the crowd, barely visible in the cluster of people.

Kageyama’s eyes widen imperceptibly, and he doesn’t know why his body moves on its own without his command, but it does. He bumps into people, apologizes curtly and moves along, paying them no mind, but no matter how hard he tries, he’s lagging behind, can’t catch up to the boy who’s weaving through the crows like a snake. Or a ghost. Or just a really small person.

More and more people are in his way and it only gets harder to avoid them, until he can’t see anything but the faces of people unknown to him. Kageyama clicks his tongue and concentrates on himself, focusing solely on his body and mind. It’s not easy in such a tight space as this, but he’s managed it before, in more stressful situations.

He almost lets out a small yelp of delight when he feels his body – small and black and three-legged – rise into the air, far above them all. Up here, he can see everything that’s going on, can see the orange-haired boy he’d been searching for _(was it a coincidence that he’d shown up right now?)_ moving past other people, almost getting swallowed by the crowd. A big feather is sticking out of his messy hair, and he seems to have set his sight on something; what that might be, Kageyama doesn’t know.

He just knows that he has to follow this boy for whatever reason. And so he does; he stays up here, tailing the boy from afar with only his eyes, but suddenly the guy ducks into a backstreet, not as busy and full with people, and Kageyama touches down as well, easily turning into a human again and following the boy by foot. It isn’t hard, and soon enough he’s caught up to the smaller boy, grabbing his arm tightly. His arm is warm and tanned, the skin a little dry.

The boy whips around, staring at him with big, brown eyes that seem eerily familiar, and Kageyama gathers all his courage, opening his mouth to speak. “Do I know you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't even promise i'll be more active now. I'm just not feeling very well right now, so please, bear with me
> 
> Ok but was no one gonna tell me that i completely forgot the dialogue at the end


	6. July: Judgement and The Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reon and Yamagata meet up and decide to spend some time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually finished this faster than anticipated, which im glad for. the other chapters shouldnt be too hard now
> 
> this is the chapter the "vomiting" tag pertains to, so if you're squeamish about that... well, it's not graphic, just a few mentions, but still.

Oohira just _loves_ his job – he loves everything about it, from seeing happy children with that certain sparkle in their eyes to loving, excited going-to-be parents.

It just makes him glad that he’s able to help out in the shelter, guarding and taking care of innocent children at the _Geryon’s._ He likes nothing more than hearing their laughter when they play with him, try to wrestle him down, and – when he lets them win – dance with glee. They all remind him of his own siblings and himself when they’d been younger, and Oohira wouldn’t give this away for anything in the world.

The only thing that makes him sad is when new children arrive at the shelter – sure, they’ll receive better treatment here than where they were before, but in order for a child to end up here, they’ve already had to have gone through a lot. So whenever Hayato brings in new children, fear in their eyes, clothes most of the time dirty and torn in places, shying back from his touch, he can only watch them with sorrowful eyes and hope that they’ll get better over time, that he can help them adjust and grow somehow.

Summers aren’t as busy as winters, though, and once again he finds himself sitting at the reception desk, waiting for something, anything to happen. Most of the kids are currently out with the other caretakers, visiting a local swimming pool, and he’d agreed to stay here for the day. It doesn’t matter all that much though – of course he’d like to play with them a little more, maybe teach some of them how to properly swim, but he’s content here as well, a book laying on the wooden table in front of him, his eyes lazily scanning the pages.

Oohira is kind of glad that they have a functioning AC, otherwise he’d be melting in this heat; the dark fur on his arms doesn’t do anything to keep it away and more often than not does he find himself panting for air. He’s just glad that he also has functioning sweat glands, as opposed to other canines. It’d be a horrible thing to try to acclimate if he didn’t have those.

Resting his head on his arms for a while, Oohira only looks up when the glass door suddenly opens and someone steps in, accompanied by a torrent of warm air. 

Not someone, but Hayato himself, standing tall _(well, as tall as he can be)_ and proud in the doorway, the biggest, goofiest smirk ever on his face. “Wassup!” He greets Oohira, striding into the open room as if he owned it and plopping down on an empty armchair, leaning back. “Long time no see!” His skin is tan, although it doesn’t hide the red tint of his face. Oohira is never sure if it’s from the heat or if that’s just normal for his kind. 

Oohira smiles back, closing his book and pushing it aside to focus on his friend. “We saw each other three days ago,” he reminds Hayato, shaking his head a little. “What brings you here? You don’t seem to have a child with you.”

Grinning even wider, Hayato’s eyes crinkle around the edges. “Can’t I visit my best buddy when I miss him?” He teases, inspecting his nails with rehearsed nonchalance.

“Really? Last time I checked, Wakatoshi was your ‘best buddy’,” Oohira humours him, playing along with his antics. Hayato places his hand over his heart in mock-hurt, gasping loudly.

“You wound me, Oohira. You truly are an evil being, aren’t you, playing with your friend’s feelings like that?” He extracts his feather fan from some place in the depths of his pockets, fanning himself, always careful not to stir up too much wind.

Oohira watches him with an amused expression, leaning on the desk to take Hayato in. He’s way too overdressed for such a hot day, wearing his complete yamabushi. “Didn’t I tell you not to bring that fan with you when you come to visit? It scares the kids. And also, shouldn’t you change out of that? You look like you’re about to overheat.”

Hayato shoots him an indignant look. “I don’t know what you mean, you must have said that to someone else, really. I don’t remember that happening at all, plus no children are here at the moment. And also, I’m never too hot, especially in my superb-looking garbs. It’d be way hotter if I still had that beak and the wings. That’d would definitely suck, I swear.”

He hums a little. “But honestly, shouldn’t you be up in the mountains? Protecting your… forests and what-not? Why did you come down if it isn’t for a child?” Oohira cocks his head to one side, looking at Hayato with watchful eyes. It’s not often that the other comes down for personal reasons.

Shrugging, Hayato watches the world outside through the large glass doors. “I don’t know, I just thought I should. As far as I heard, a lot of really weird stuff’s been going on in the city at the moment. Just wanted to check if you’re still doing okay.” It’s kind of adorable how his friends still get worried about him although he is literally a two-headed monster with sharp teeth and claws.

“I know,” he sighs, neatly arranging everything that’s on the desk to occupy his hands somehow. “First all the encounters with the Lost even though their numbers have been declining lately, then the whole business with the humans now mistrusting omens and signs and now… it just keeps getting weirder and weirder. You’d have thought that the humans and the others would’ve finally found the golden mean, but we still dance around each other as if our cooperation’s just started. Maybe even more so than at the beginning. It’s getting worse.”

Hayato nods silently, his eyes serious and his gaze heavy on Oohira. “It’s not much better up in the mountains, to be honest,” he admits, scratching his chin.

Oohira wrinkles his brows. “How so? I thought the connection between spirits and humans is better up there? It’s always been that way.” It’s really not a good sign if their liaison keeps receding like this.

“It’s just – weird. Human used to respect us, sometimes even fear us, they always looked up to spirits and beings, but lately-“ Hayato interrupts himself to vehemently shake his head, disappointment clear on his face- “lately it’s just been a clusterfuck. They talk back all the time, disagreeing with everything we have to say, they treat us like we’re worth less than they are, discredit us and it’s just… it makes everyone dissatisfied, and frankly, I don’t know how long I can convince the others to stay up there. Sooner or later, it’s not going to end well.”

Which is exactly what Oohira is afraid of, what he’s been dreading ever since Kageyama had shown up on TV for the first time, spreading his great black wings; the concerned look he’d shared with Ushijima afterwards. “I know,” he says, rubbing his temples with his thumb and index finger, “I’m worried, to be honest. It’s not that noticeable in Tokyo yet, but the beginnings are definitely there.” He tries to smile at Hayato. “But hey, nothing’s set in stone yet. They’ve accepted our kinds the first time, and I’m sure they’ll do the same a second time.”

Hayato snorts with laughter. “You and your positivity, I swear!” He keeps on laughing, shaking his head all the while. “You’re gonna be the death of me someday, Reon. Anyhow, let’s talk about something else, why don’t we! How’s your fiancée?” He waggles one eyebrow suggestively, but Oohira merely inclines his head.

“She’s great, thank you. We’ve been thinking about adopting a child, but she wants to wait until after the marriage.” At the mention of his fiancée, Oohira smiles softly, more to himself than his friend.

“I’m still invited, right?” Hayato jokes, winking at Oohira. “You didn’t kick me out yet, did you?”

“I would never,” Oohira says with as much honesty as he can muster, “although, if you start flirting with my sister again, I will have to ask you to leave.”

His friend groans in exasperation. “C’mon man, that was one time! And I was really drunk, so it’s not fair to bring that up.”

Oohira chuckles, hiding his mouth with his hand. “That’s even worse. Sometimes I can’t believe that I’m friends with such a scandalous person as you, Hayato.” He props up one elbow on the desk so he can rest his cheek on his palm, watching him with warm eyes. “Wakatoshi and Satori already have agreed to come as well and… I mean, I do like Tsutomu, he is really cute and kind, but I kind of hope that they’ll get a sitter for him.” He shudders at the thought of Tsutomu breaking all of the decorations with his youthful enthusiasm.

Hayato, who’s never met the small sphinx, only laughs louder. “Damn, I was looking forward to seeing the lil’ guy in action. But I’m glad I finally get to meet that Tendou y’all have been talking about. I sure hope Wakatoshi’s in good hands.” He tries to put on a stern expression, but fails horribly; Hayato couldn’t act to save his life.

“By the way, Satori’s introduced me to two of his friends, Semi and Shirabu. They’ll be coming as well.” He’s only met them a few times – no, scrap that. He’s only met Shirabu a few times, because the small mage’s quite busy these days, hurrying from place to place, but Semi seems to have a lot of free time, he is fun to be around _(even though his clothes are questionable at times and his lack of footwear concerning, but to each their own)_ and Oohira and him had hit it right off. Whatever creature Semi was, he could deal well with children, a definite plus in Oohira’s books, but he could also keep them from stepping out of line.

Snapping out of his reverie, Hayato seems to have been pondering on what he’d said. “Is… one of them coincidentally a cute girl, by any chance?” His smile is hopeful if a little lopsided, and Oohira is almost sad to disappoint him.

“Actually, no. They’re both guys and they’re dating; sorry, but you’ll have to find someone else to hit on. Just- please, don’t be too obnoxious. Or disappointed when it doesn’t work out.” Oohira doesn’t like to remember the last few times he’s been out with Hayato, because no matter how hard the poor guy tries, all of his pursuits end in heartbreak. It’s a wonder he’s still alive with how much of those he’s been through.

“Goddamn. And what do you mean, I’m never obnoxious. Or disappointed.” Spoken like a person who definitely has too much confidence. Ah, Hayato truly is something else.

“I’m sure you aren’t,” Oohira replies in that soothing voice you use when talking to children. “But there’s still some time – maybe you’ll find a date beforehand? Just be sure to tell me, so we can plan for an extra guest.”

He sighs, deflating a little. “Yeah, yeah, as if that’s ever gonna happen.”

It probably really isn’t easy to find a date with a face as red as his, but then again, there are weirder creatures out there who do have fully functioning relationships despite their unusual looks, himself included. Not that his fiancée would ever describe him as weird-looking; especially for a normal human who grew up in a small village in Eastern Japan, she is quite tolerant. “Don’t sweat it too much; you’re still young, you have a lot of time left. It’s really no big deal.”

Hayato gets up from his seat, his clothes swooshing around him as he moves over to the counter, propping his arms up on it and drawing patterns on the wood with his fingers. “Yeah, I guess so. Or I hope so, at least. It’s just- it feels as if you’re all growing up, leaving me behind and that… it makes me kind of sad. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for y’all, but it’s like… you’re going to forget about me when you have your own lives and families, as if I’m not a part of that anymore.”

It’s rare to see Hayato this earnest, so raw and vulnerable, and it kind of hurts Oohira, tugs at his heartstrings. “You know that we’ll never forget you, Hayato, right? We’ll always be friends, no matter what happens. You’re always welcome here.” He rests his hand on Hayato’s spiked up hair, and it’s soft beneath his fingers. It’s always been.

“I know, I know, sorry for bothering you with stuff like this. It’s- stupid, really.” He smiles at Oohira, but something lacks, some of his cheerfulness has left him.

“You’re not bothering me with it, Hayato, this is what friends are for. You can always talk to me about stuff like this, yeah? What do you think, want to grab something to eat after my shift is over? We haven’t done anything fun in a while,” he tries to bend Hayato’s thoughts from that topic. 

The other surely notices that this is a badly disguised attempt to distract him _(Hayato’s often clueless, but not dumb)_ , but he plays along nonetheless, giving him his thumbs up. “Sounds good, I guess. What do ya have in mind?”

Oohira smiles, ruffling Hayato’s hair affectionately and then opening his notebook to rip out a page and write an address on it, giving it to his friend once he’s done. “They have some pretty good drinks and stuff, and I’m sure you’ll like the music there. Meet me in front of it at eight? Is that alright with you?”

Hayato stares down at the piece of paper and then types the address into his phone _(Oohira is kind of surprised that he hasn’t lost it yet),_ nodding when results start to pop up one after one. He clicks on one of the pictures to enlarge it. “Seems good to me,” he agrees, the corners of his mouth lifting up a little. “And you say they have good music?”

“The best,” he replies, which maybe is an exaggeration, but Hayato doesn’t need to know that. “It’s really good there; the food, the environment, the people.”

It’s not hard to convince Hayato to go to a bar. It never has been, and it probably never will be. “Great, see you later then?”

Grinning widely, Hayato knocks on the table with his knuckles. “You’re on it.”

* * *

It’s not cold outside – not that he’d expected it to be cold in mid-July. Actually, the air is quite warm and sticky, making his clothes cling to his body.

Oohira is currently standing in front of the entrance to the bar, now and then sparing a glance at his watch and tapping a small rhythm on the ground with his foot. He isn’t impatient, he’d just really like to sit down somewhere that’s not the curb side. People are pushing past him, sending him annoyed looks from time to time, and he steps a little out of the way to make more space for them. His fiancée hadn’t minded him going out in the evening; in fact, she’d even encouraged it, telling him that she was glad he was out of the house so she could have a ‘girls’ night’ of some sorts – not that he wanted to know what that entailed.

Suddenly, a warm hand is placed on his arm, shaking him out of his thoughts, and a panting, red-faced Hayato is staring up at him. “Sorry that I’m late. I didn’t get through.”

He only smiles at his friend. “It’s fine. You’re here now, that’s what counts. Let’s get inside, yeah?” Oohira holds the door open for Hayato and then steps in after him, surveying the area and appreciating the coolness of the room. “There we go.”

It’s not a bar exclusively for spirits and beings, but most of the patrons are a part of that community nonetheless. Maybe because the owner is one. Probably. The guy manning the bar nods at them as they settle down at a small table, next to what seems to be a couple. The smaller of them, a guy with two-coloured hair has his face so close to his phone that he probably can’t see anything else, and the black-haired man is smiling softly at him. His hair looks ridiculous; not as bad as Satori’s, but still pretty horrendous.

Ignoring them for now, he looks at the recommendations for today, pondering over his options. There isn’t a huge selection, but everything _(or maybe just almost everything; he makes sure to stay away from_ that _part of the menu)_ they’re offering sounds pretty good, so it’s hard to decide.

Hayato across him is moving to the music – a mix between jazz and rock, playing in the background – bobbing his head slightly. It’s kind of a funny sight, watching how his hair moves along. He notices Oohira staring and smirks back. “Already decided what you’ll get?”

Shaking his head, Oohira replies, “No, not yet. There’s just… so much. I think I’ll get whatever you’ll get.”

His friend’s eyes sparkle with something Oohira can’t name but, knowing Hayato, it can’t be good. “Really? Are you sure? Then-“ he waves for the waiter to come over, ordering two of the nastiest-sounding drinks Oohira has ever heard of in his life- “what do you think about this?” He finally finishes.

He contorts his face. “I can’t believe you’ve just done that. I don’t think I can trust you ever again, to be honest. You’re uninvited.”

Hayato has the audacity to laugh; in fact, he laughs so loud that the couple at the table next to them turns towards him. Oohira sends them an apologetic look, shaking his head slightly. Not perturbed, Hayato continues. “You really should’ve thought better about what you were saying, Reon. I thought you’d know me by now.”

The smaller guy next to him whispers something along the lines of _‘I don’t think I like bars very much, Tetsurou, can we please go back now?’_ and the taller man nods, paying their bill and together they leave. Oohira watches them go before focusing on Hayato once again. “I guess if you phrase it like that, it is my own fault. I will never let you choose a drink ever again,” he says, as the waiter sets down their drinks, an amused expression on their face.

His friend winks at him. “You say that as if you’re sure you’re going to survive this one,” he replies, and Oohira shudders. Surely it can’t be that bad, right…? “Hey, no hesitating, just down with the good stuff.”

And under Oohira’s shocked gaze, he throws his head back and chugs the disgusting-looking shot in one go, not even once stopping to breathe. All Oohira can do is stare in horror, his own face contorting as he picks up the smell and his eyes darting between his friend and his own drink, contemplating. He really doesn’t want to drink it.

In the meantime, Hayato has finished his own shot and is now expectantly looking at Oohira, encouraging him to hurry up. “It ain’t that bad, really. Tastes a little weird at the start and the consistency is… yeah, it’s nasty.” He shakes his head, probably to get rid of the taste.

Oohira raises his glass, looking at the dark substance inside of it and the small clump that looks like vanilla ice-cream. It probably isn’t ice-cream. “Just to be sure, what did you order?” He’s quite sure that this drink will kill him if he tries it; it’s only a matter of time until Hayato succumbs to its powers.

“Oh yeah, about that. It’s a shot made of both Jägermeister and mayonnaise, I thought it sounded interesting, but on second thought…” His normally red face looks a sickly shade of green right now, and inconspicuously Oohira pushes the glass away from himself, smiling sympathetically at his friend.

“Do you perhaps want to go to the bathroom? You don’t look too good.” And it’s true – Hayato looks like he’s about to puke at any given moment, the green colour quickly fading away to give place to white, small beads of sweat rolling down his face.

“Yeah- I think I wanna go, that stuff is… it’s actually really bad. It’s just- god I don’t know how to describe it, I…” He trails off, voice getting smaller and smaller.

Oohira helps him up, slowly and careful not to jostle him too much; the waiter from before shoots him a pitying look. “It’s fine, just… focus on keeping it down for the moment, alright?” With gentle motions he leads Hayato in the direction of the bathroom, avoiding the other tables nearby.

Hayato only nods, and even that seems to cause him pain, because after it he keeps unnaturally still, barely moving his head at all. “I don’t think I’m gonna drink that like… ever again, that’s for sure,” he manages to croak out weakly, his voice wobbly.

“There, there,” Oohira tries to encourage him, beginning to rub the small of back but quickly retracting his hand when Hayato begins to make weird gulping-motions, panting for air. “It’s all going to be fine.”

Once they’re inside the bathroom, Hayato groans and lets his head fall against one of the doors of the toilet stalls, and Oohira has to use his full strength to keep him from sliding down. “Hey, we don’t want to sit there, alright? Bathroom floors are dirty.” He murmurs softly, wiping a few loose strands of Hayato’s usually styled hair, which has come undone by the sweat, out of his face. “We’re just going to get in one of the cubicles and then it’s going to be fine, you’re going to be all dandy.”

His friend nods softly, letting Oohira guide him into one of the small stalls and dropping to his knees in front of the toilet, staring at the white bowl. If Hayato had longer hair, Oohira would hold it out of his face for him, but since his friend’s hair is pretty short he contents himself with lightly rubbing Hayato’s back as the other heaves and retches into the toilet, his knuckles turning white with how hard he grips the porcelain.

It’s kind of disgusting, but working with kids for years kind of prepares you for situations like this one. He makes shushing sounds as Hayato chokes, bending over the toilet as far as he can manage.

Once his friend is finished, Oohira hands him a paper towel with which Hayato wipes his face and before depositing it in the toilet, flushing everything away. He contorts his face, getting up on wobbly knees and immediately Oohira moves to steady him. “Feeling better?”

Hayato moves to nod his head, but seems to change his mind last second. “I’d feel a lot better if I wasn’t the only one looking like a fool,” he croaks out, sending an accusatory stare Oohira’s way, but it falters quickly as he stumbles towards the door.

He chuckles quietly as he follows his friend. “If that were the case, we’d both still be at the table, puking our guts out. Which would most likely get us a ban for some time,” he explains to Hayato, listing off the reasons why drinking that thing wouldn’t be a good idea.

“Ugh, you’re such a killjoy,” Hayato rolls his eyes, but the smirk on his lips betrays him nonetheless. “That would’ve made things spicier, more interesting! Where did your sense of adventure go, Reon?” he opens the door and steps back into the bar, acting as if nothing had happened.

“Must’ve disappeared when I first met you,” he replies, gesturing for the waiter to bring a glass of water to the table. They only nod, making quick work of it.

Hayato’s already sitting at the table, staring at the still full glass he’d ordered for Oohira with horror in his eyes and gulping nervously, his arms crossed in front of his body. He nods his thanks to the waiter when they set the glass of water in front of him, sharing a look with Oohira to ask for permission to take the two shots away.

Oohira doesn’t mind, and judging by Hayato’s expression, he doesn’t seem very sad about it either, so he motions for the waiter to take the glasses. “I hope you’ve learnt your lesson,” he addresses his friend with a smile.

Face souring in an instant, Hayato shoots him an indignant look, resting his arms on the table and leaning forward. “What lesson? The only thing I learnt is that you’re a coward,” he winks at Oohira, sticking his tongue out. His face has assumed its normal colour once again, which he is quite glad for.

Shaking his head, Oohira raises his arm, scanning the menu while he waits for the waiter to come over. “Oh, if that’s the case, then… are you up for round two of who can choose the most disgusting drink?”

Hayato’s eyes sparkle in the dimly lit room. “You’re on it. Just don’t cry wolf when I have to drag you home because you couldn’t manage to keep up with me.”

Oh boy.


	7. August: The Emperor and The Empress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hot night in August, and Oikawa, who can't seem to sleep. 
> 
> Will he stay alone all night, or will someone keep him company?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the really sporadic updates, but my personal life is kind of hectic at the moment. i really dislike people who can't take no for an answer - why they gotta make life so hard

The house around him always is quietest in the early hours of the morning, when no one except those pesky joggers and ambitious businessmen are awake.

It’s quite a big house – one could call it a modern-day castle, perhaps, and that’s just what Oikawa likes about it. Big, fancy, and just about everything else a lone muse could want. 

Those early hours are the ones where he is the most active, especially during summer when it’s just too warm to stay outside for longer periods of time, working on paintings and drawings or just watching the fire eat away at the logs. Why the fire is on in the first place – well, not even Oikawa knows that. It just feels as if it should be.

Though, he has to admit, he’d much rather like it if Iwaizumi didn’t need to sleep. It gets incredibly boring after a while, and although Oikawa technically is able to sleep at night and he sometimes does just that, slipping into their shared bed and cuddling into the other’s broad frame, dreams never come to him, nor does the satisfaction of having rested for a longer period of time.

That’s one of the reasons why he’s seated at the dining table _(which, by the way, has way too many chairs for just two people. He blames it on Makki and Mattsun)_ and nursing a glass of red wine. It has a rather flamboyant aftertaste to it, revealing the fruitiness of its flavour – perfect for a late night snack. Kind of, at least. With his left index finger, he draws intricate patterns on the wooden table, watching the moon through the huge window façade, which also showcases the garden Iwaizumi works in most of the time. He sometimes catches bugs as well, which Oikawa finds ridiculous, but he doesn’t complain – his fiancé always looks so proud of himself, so happy and full of life.

He sighs, his right hand now tracing the rim of his glass, running over the place where his mouth had just been. It’s still a good-tasting wine, but it would taste better if he had someone to share it with.

It seems his prayers are answered, after all.

Oikawa’s ears are perceptive, even that late into the night _(or maybe especially because)_ and the sound of someone slowly descending the stairs isn’t a new one. They creak lightly under the other person’s feet, Iwaizumi’s feet, because he’d recognize his lover everywhere.

Carefully, he positions himself in the chair, checking if his gown is still in place but also at least kind of revealing. Maybe he’s a bit extra, but then again, if you looked that good, wouldn’t you be as well? Anyhow, the fabric feels silky beneath his fingertips, and it’s a deep shade of maroon, making his white skin shine even more. Not even the Golden Ones from the _Shining Throne_ can compare to him; that just is a fact, as clear as the day.

He’s so absorbed in his own thoughts that he doesn’t even realize when Iwaizumi plops down across him after having grabbed a glass for himself. The brunet looks tired, Oikawa notes, and is constantly rubbing his eyes as he tries to pour the wine into his glass. His hands tremble a tiny bit.

Oikawa leans forward on his forearms, cocking his head to the side. “Why aren’t you sleeping, darling?” He asks softly, letting his fingernails tap a rhythm on the table. “It’s still deep night; you should get back to bed.”

“Same goes to you.” Oikawa sets to retort, but before he can open his mouth, Iwaizumi has raised his hand, cutting him off. “And don’t give me that crap that you don’t really need to sleep at night. Matter of fact, I know you can and that’s what counts.”

Smirking at his fiancé, Oikawa inspects his nails and holds his hand out to watch the ring on his finger twinkle in the dim light of the moon. “And how! I surely can, but it gets boring after a while, y’know, Iwa-chan? Also, please don’t get completely ossified on my good giggle water. That one was really expensive.”

Iwaizumi hums in the back of his throat, swishing the liquid around in his mouth and finally swallowing it. “Has a fruity taste,” he notes, setting his glass down. “What are you even doing here right now? Nothing else to do? No souls to devour, no artists to torture?”

Oikawa clicks his tongue; his lover sure is tactless. “Actually no, since I am legally bound to you,” he retorts, head held high. “Which is just swell, my ducky, as it is what I always had planned, of course. Why aren’t you asking why I’m all dolled up, though?” He mock-pouts slightly, while Iwaizumi groans in exasperation.

Rubbing his temple with his index fingers, he squints at Oikawa. “Okay Shittykawa, shoot. Why’re you all dressed up in the middle of the night? Please do enlighten me.”

Well, his face doesn’t really scream ‘please enlighten me’, but it’s good enough for Oikawa. He clears his throat. “Because you, my darling Iwa-chan, are quite the heeler. And that really isn’t good – we have to be flawless on our wedding day!”

Iwaizumi’s face is blank. “And that’s why you want to practice dancing in the middle of the night, right. Remind me why I wanted to marry you again.”

Laughing, a really high-pitched sound, Oikawa throws his head back. “Because you love me, silly! And now get hot!” He gets up from his seat, as gracefully as possible, and walks around the table to offer Iwaizumi his hand, who stares at it as if it’s going to bite him.

His partner sighs. “Okay, first of all – Tooru, no matter how many times you try to come across as a vampire who’s been living for centuries by using outdated slang, it will never work.” He presses down on the bridge of his nose, shaking his head lightly. “Please, I beg of you – stop using those words.”

One hand still extended, he places the other on his waist, waiting patiently. “Fine, will do that, Iwa-chan. But only-“ he wags his finger around as if chastising his partner- “if I may ask you for a dance now.” He winks, and Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but his cheeks have a light flush to them either way. 

“Just one dance,” Iwaizumi finally grumbles out through tight lips, his face contorted into one of agony. “One dance, and then we’ll go back to bed and catch some sleep, alright?”

Oikawa raises his hand to his face to ponder over the question. “Oh jeez, Iwa-chan,” he finally says, eyes twinkling with mischief, “there I go, granting you endless inspiration, and you don’t even use it. How rude of you.” Despite his words, he is still smiling as he pulls Iwaizumi up, who only scowls at him from below. His lover’s hands are warm in his own, strong and calloused.

“Shut up, Shittykawa. It’s a wonder I haven’t lost my mind yet, to be honest.”

“Oh, that’s only because you played so hard to get!” He laughs again, loud and boisterous, but it doesn’t completely mask the relief in his voice. “Which I’m glad for, by the way. I mean, no matter what would’ve happened, we’d be together for eternity. But still-“ he doesn’t have to finish the sentence.

Iwaizumi nods, face all serious and cute. “True that. It definitely could’ve turned out worse.” He shifts from one foot to the other, glancing around. “So, can we finally get started? I really want to go back to sleep.”

Oikawa twirls a lock of his auburn hair around his finger, tapping his chin with the other one almost thoughtfully. “Are you going to work later? You know you don’t have to, right? You could just- stay here.” He doesn’t add the ‘forever’, but he doesn’t really need to either way.

“And wither away? I don’t think so, dumbass. As much as I enjoy rewatching E.T. for the thousandth time, I actually want to get some work done now and then.” With steady steps he leads Oikawa to the middle of the room, cleared of everything. A crystal chandelier is hanging above them, providing some light in the middle of the night, and the floor is cool beneath his bare feet, comfortably smooth and clean.

“Oh Iwa-chan,” he sighs melodramatically, raising his free hand to his forehead and pretending to faint, “how very manly of you. It’s just – please come back safe, alright? I really don’t like the thought of you working alone, either, so be sure to partner up with someone like Sawamura, won’t you? I’ve heard he’s pretty reliable.” Gnawing on the inside of his cheek, he waits for Iwaizumi to nod; which his fiancé promptly does; maybe just to ease his nerves. Hopefully not.

He positions himself, placing one hand on Oikawa’s shoulder, raising softly with his every breath, and the other still safely in his lover’s cold hand. “Of course,” he reassures him, voice soft with unsaid emotions, “I’ll be careful, don’t worry. Why don’t you meet up with Sugawara in the meantime? You two haven’t done anything in a while.”

Oikawa hums lightly, more so to himself than to Iwaizumi and loosely curls his right hand around his partner’s waist, gripping the fabric there. “I’d like to, but I don’t think he’s free anytime soon. It’s been terribly busy ever since… well, you know.”

Falling into step, Oikawa slightly twirls Iwaizumi around to the melody of a song unheard by anyone else, leading him around in circles. Iwaizumi’s gotten better over time – he sometimes still steps on the brunet’s toes, but it’s not as pronounced as it was during their first dance, and he’s become a lot more confident over time as well.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Iwaizumi replies easily, following Oikawa through the room although every move that Oikawa pulls off seems so graceful in comparison to his own, clumsy movements.

“I still don’t get why you couldn’t just have been an artist, honestly,” he sighs, squeezing Iwaizumi’s hand a little and attempting a particularly hard step sequence.

Almost immediately, Iwaizumi stumbles, caught off-guard, and glares at Oikawa, who only grins back in response. He rights himself, assuming his usual stance, and continues as if nothing ever happened. “Because – well, that’s simply not me. I need some action now and then, Tooru, and I want to help make the world a better place, that’s all.”

Step after step, foot after foot – they move around the room as if they’ve never done anything else in their lives, Oikawa’s gown swishing around his ankles and accentuating his body. “That’s a pity,” he finally says, “it truly is. I wish I could talk you out of it, but you really are the most obstinate person I’ve ever met. Fine then, go on and leave me, make me a widower and break my heart!”

Iwaizumi huffs a little, rolling his eyes so hard that Oikawa’s afraid they’ll pop out of his head or something. “We aren’t even married yet, dumbass. And it’s not like I’ll be gone forever.”

He gasps audibly, drawing his hand away from Iwaizumi’s waist to cover his mouth in shock. “Even worse! My soon-to-be husband, dying and leaving me, his grieving fiancé, all alone in this cruel world! It is certain – I must be cursed by the gods!”

“Get your head out of the clouds, Tooru. Even if something happened to me, there’s no chance in hell you’ll let me go, is there?” He raises a hand and softly raps his knuckles against Oikawa’s forehead, shaking his own head in disbelief all the while. “We’re bound together, aren’t we? So stop worrying and just – I don’t know, enjoy the day off, watch some alien movies or catch up with Tobio. Can’t be that hard to find a distraction.”

Huffing a little, Oikawa turns his head to the side to avoid facing Iwaizumi. “Me, talking to Tobio, of all people? Uhm, I don’t think so?” He scrunches up his nose and inspects his nails as if they’re the most interesting think in the entire world.

“Oh my god, just get over yourself, you dumbass. Anyway-“ Iwaizumi interrupts himself with a yawn, covering his mouth with the back of his hand and then scratches his head, running his fingers through the short hair- “I think I’ll go back to bed, if you don’t mind. You coming as well?” He expectantly looks at his partner, although his eyes are half lidded and heavy with sleep.

Oikawa grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers. “It’s what I promised, isn’t it? Let’s go upstairs, I’ll even tell you a bedtime story, that’s how gracious I am.” He winks, smirking at Iwaizumi. “I’ll even make it extra fancy this time.”

“Please don’t, your fairy tales are worst I’ve ever heard in my entire life; spare me this agony,” Iwaizumi responds, but even he can’t keep out the amusement in his voice. Oikawa counts that as a win.

“Oh, I know that you just can’t wait! C’mon, my darling prince, let’s us ascend to our suite and I shall humour you some more.” Surprisingly enough, Iwaizumi doesn’t complain – instead he seemingly accepts his fate, slightly lagging behind Oikawa until they reach the bedroom.

Oikawa waits until he’s settled down on the bed, fluffing up the pillows behind him, before he himself sits on the edge of the bed, right next to Iwaizumi who’s looking up at him. “Let’s get it over with, alright?” He says, yawning and curling his arm around Oikawa’s waist, drawing him closer to his own body. “And not a story about Ushijima again, yeah?”

Smiling, the brunet runs his fingers through Iwaizumi’s hair, clearing his throat. “As you wish. _On_ _ce upon a time there was a handsome boy called Wai Oka. He was on the way to see his-_ uhm _, lover Jam Hie, when he decided to take a shortcut through Shinjuku-Gyoen._ ”

Iwaizumi snorts, pressing his face into Oikawa’s gown. “Please don’t tell me that those are just anagrams of our names.”

Indignantly, Oikawa shakes his head. “Of course they aren’t, really, how uncreative do you think I am? No, it’s way better, so if you could let me elaborate a little more… where was I… oh, right _! It wasn't long before Wai got lost. He looked around, but all he could see were trees and cherry blossoms. Nervously, he felt into his bag for his favourite toy, Iwa-chan, but Iwa-chan was nowhere to be found! Wai began to panic. He was sure he had packed Iwa-chan. To make matters worse, he was also starting to feel hungry._ ”

“Oh, so I’m not only the lover Jam Hie, but also a toy now?” He raises one eyebrow, giving Oikawa an incredulous look. “Yeah, I can really feel your creativity, Shittykawa.”

Spluttering a little and blushing, Oikawa crosses his arms in front of his chest. “It’s only because you confused me with all your allegations and questions! That’s not fair at all!”

Iwaizumi laughs softly into his fist. “Fine then, continue. I won’t interrupt you anymore.”

“You better not,” Oikawa pouts. “Anyhow, as I was saying… _Unexpectedly, Wai saw a weird crow dressed in a light blue gown disappearing into the trees. ‘How odd!’ he thought. For the lack of anything better to do, he decided to follow the peculiarly dressed crow. Perhaps it could tell him the way out of the park._ ”

“Okay, I’m really sorry, but… a crow, dressed in a blue gown? Really?” When he sees Oikawa’s look, he closes his mouth, silently motioning for him to continue.

“ _Eventually, Wai reached a clearing. He found himself surrounded by houses made from different sorts of food. There was a house made from turnips, a house made from pizzas, a house made from toffees and a house made from muffins. Wai could feel his tummy rumbling. Looking at the houses did nothing to ease his hunger._ ”

Iwaizumi clicks his tongue, his warm arms still around Oikawa. “Turnips, huh? Sure you aren’t thinking of Kindaichi?”

Oikawa chooses to ignore him. _“"Hello!" Wai called. "Is anybody there?" But nobody replied. Wai looked at the roof on the closest house and wondered if it would be rude to eat somebody else's chimney. Obviously it would be impolite to eat a_ whole _house, but perhaps it would be considered acceptable to nibble the odd fixture or lick the odd fitting, in a time of need._ ”

“Hansel and Gretel-esque story you’re telling isn’t it?” Iwaizumi remarks, his fingers travelling over the silky material of the gown.

“No, it’s my own creation, excuse you? Don’t you want to know what’s going to happen next?” He sticks out his lower lip.

Cocking his head to the side, Iwaizumi shifts in the big bed, moving to make place for Oikawa. “I actually don’t, but proceed either way.”

Oikawa hums contentedly, laying down next to his lover and cuddling into him. “ _A cackle broke through the air, giving Wai a fright. A witch jumped into the space in front of the houses. She was carrying a cage. In that cage was poor Iwa-chan!_ ”

Iwaizumi gasps in mock-horror. “Oh no, the suspense is too big, I wonder what will happen next.” He doesn’t even try to phrase it as a question.

_“"Iwa-chan!" shouted Wai. He turned to the witch. "That's my toy! Give Iwa-chan back!" cried Wai. But the witch was having none of it! "Not on your nelly!" she said._

_"At least let Iwa-chan out of that cage!" Wai demanded forcefully_.”

“For a muse of the arts, you sure are bad at storytelling,” Iwaizumi notes idly, ruffling his hair. Oikawa nuzzles his face into Iwaizumi’s chest, groaning.

“Kindly shut up and let me tell my tale of woe _._ Okay, so _before she could reply, three benign crows rushed in from a footpath on the other side of the clearing. Wai recognised the one in the light blue gown that he'd seen earlier. The witch seemed to recognise him too. "Hello Big Crow," said the witch._ ” Resting his head on Iwaizumi’s chest, he stares at the high ceiling, blinking lazily.

“ _"Good morning." The crow noticed Iwa-chan. "Who is this?"_

_"That's Iwa-chan," explained the witch._

_"Ooh! Iwa-chan would look lovely in my house. Give it to me!" demanded the crow_.”

Iwaizumi clears his throat. “Please don’t sell me out to a crow in a blue gown. Is that a metaphor of some sort, by the way? Because if it is, it’s a really shitty one.”

“Whatever! You just gotta listen! So, as I was saying… _The witch shook her head. "Iwa-chan is staying with me."_

 _"Um... Excuse me..." Wai interrupted. "Iwa-chan lives with me! And not in a cage!"_ ”

“You tell ‘em, Tooru,” he cheers unenthusiastically, pumping his fist into the air.

“ _Big Crow ignored him. "Is there nothing you'll trade?" he asked the witch._

_The witch thought for a moment, then said, "I do like to be entertained. I'll release him to anybody who can eat a whole front door."_

_Big Crow looked at the house made from muffins and said, "No problem, I could eat an entire_ house _made from muffins if I wanted to."_

“It’s a crow, isn’t it? I don’t think a crow could technically eat an entire house. ‘s stupid, doesn’t make any sense,” Iwaizumi mumbles into his hair, his warm breath on the nape of Oikawa’s neck.

"Really? That’s your only concern? You’ve got some weird priorities. _That's nothing," said the next crow. "I could eat_ two _houses."_

_"There's no need to show off," said the witch. Just eat one front door and I'll let you have Iwa-chan."_

_Wai watched, feeling very worried. He didn't want the witch to give Iwa-chan to Big Crow. He didn't think Iwa-chan would like living with a big crow, away from his house and all his other toys._ ”

His partner’s breathing is even and quiet, but considering his pained expression, he seems to still be listening. Oikawa hums a little.

“ _The other two crows watched while Big Crow put on his bib and withdrew a knife and fork from his pocket._

_"I'll eat this whole house," said Big Crow. "Just you watch!"_

_Big Crow pulled off a corner of the front door of the house made from pizzas. He gulped it down smiling, and went back for more._ ”

“Dunno where he’s suddenly got his knife and fork from, but at this point I’m too scared to ask,” he grumbles quietly, sighing as Oikawa cuddles into him even more.

“ _Eventually, Big Crow started to get bigger - just a little bit bigger at first. But after a few more bites of the pizzas, he grew to the size of a large snowball - and he was every bit as round._

 _"Erm... I don't feel too good," said Big Crow._ ”

“Oh, I get it now. Is it a reference to that one time where you tried to eat like, five onigiri at once? Is that it?”

He laughs quietly. “No, Iwa-chan, it isn’t, you’re imagining stuff, that never happened. _Suddenly, the crow started to roll. He'd grown so round that he could no longer balance!_

_"Help!" he cried, as he rolled off down a slope into the forest._

_Big Crow never finished eating the front door made from pizzas and Iwa-chan remained trapped in the witch's cage._ ”

Yawning sleepily, Iwaizumi’s barely able to keep his eyes open. “How unfortunate.”

“Mhm, truly is. _Average Crow stepped up, and approached the house made from toffees._

_"I'll eat this whole house," said Average Crow. "Just you watch!"_

_Average Crow pulled off a corner of the front door of the house made from toffees. She gulped it down smiling, and went back for more._ ”

“No offense,” Iwaizumi starts, “but average crow is a pretty shitty name to have if you ask me.”

“But I’m not asking you, so who cares? _After a while, Average Crow started to look a little queasy. She grew greener and greener. A woodcutter walked into the clearing. "What's this bush doing here?" he asked._

_"I'm not a bush, I'm a crow!" said Average Crow._

_"It talks!" exclaimed the woodcutter. "Those talking bushes are the worst kind. I'd better take it away before somebody gets hurt."_

_"No! Wait!" cried Average Crow, as the woodcutter picked her up. But the woodcutter ignored her cries and carried the crow away under his arm._

_Average Crow never finished eating the front door made from toffees and Iwa-chan remained trapped in the witch's cage._ ”

“Really makes you wonder what’ll happen next. I always thought three crows were a good omen, though.”

“Crows are obviously never a good omen. _Little Crow stepped up, and approached the house made from muffins._

_"I'll eat this whole house," said Little Crow. "Just you watch!"_

_Little Crow pulled off a corner of the front door of the house made from muffins. He gulped it down smiling, and went back for more._

_After five or six platefuls, Little Crow started to fidget uncomfortably on the spot._

_He stopped eating muffins for a moment, then grabbed another forkful._

_But before he could eat it, there came an almighty roar. A bottom burp louder than a rocket taking off, propelled Little Crow into the sky._

_"Aggghhhhhh!" cried Little Crow. "I'm scared of heights..."_

_Little Crow then was never seen again._ ”

Oikawa can’t see Iwaizumi’s face from where he’s lying, but his breathing is even and soft, his ribcage expanding rhythmically.

“ _Little Crow never finished eating the front door made from muffins and Iwa-chan remained trapped in the witch's cage._

_"That's it," said the witch. "I win. I get to keep Iwa-chan."_

_"Not so fast," said Wai. "There is still one front door to go. The front door of the house made from turnips. And I haven't had a turn yet._

_"I don't have to give you a turn!" laughed the witch. "My game. My rules."_ ”

“Very interesting,” a sleepy-sounding Iwaizumi mutters quietly. Oikawa chuckles.

“ _The woodcutter's voice carried through the forest. "I think you should give him a chance. It's only fair."_

_"Fine," said the witch. "But you saw what happened to the crows. He won't last long."_

_"I'll be right back," said Wai._

_"What?" said the witch. "Where's your sense of impatience? I thought you wanted Iwa-chan back."_

_Wai ignored the witch and gathered a hefty pile of sticks. He came back to the clearing and started a small camp fire. Carefully, he broke off a piece of the door of the house made from turnips and toasted it over the fire. Once it had cooked and cooled just a little, he took a bite. He quickly devoured the whole piece, sitting down on a nearby log. "You fail!" cackled the witch. "You were supposed to eat the whole door."_

_"I haven't finished," explained Wai. "I am just waiting for my food to go down."_

_When Wai's food had digested, he broke off another piece of the door made from turnips. Once more, he toasted his food over the fire and waited for it to cool just a little. He ate it at a leisurely pace then waited for it to digest._

_Eventually, after several sittings, Wai was down to the final piece of the door made from turnips. Carefully, he toasted it and allowed it to cool just a little. He finished his final course. Wai had eaten the entire front door of the house made from turnips._ ”

It’s been awfully silent for quite a while now, and carefully, Oikawa cranes his head back to look at his fiancé. Iwaizumi’s eyes are closed, his mouth slightly open. He looks peaceful. Content, Oikawa snuggles into him, on this hot night in August.

“You didn’t even let me finish my story, Iwa-chan, how rude of you. Guess you’ll have to listen to the rest tomorrow, my darling prince. Sleep well.” With that, he turns off the lamp, and darkness engulfs both of them.


	8. September: Death, The Chariot and The Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sugawara, and by extension his apprentice Yamaguchi, try to help people in their own, certain ways. If everyone is always happy about their advice... well, that's a question for another day. At least Daichi has a sympathetic ear for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took quite a break for a short chapter like this; sorry about that.
> 
> unrelated, but it's quite a big red flag if someone tries to make you promise to stay with them, saying how you're one of the reasons why they haven't ended it all yet. still makes shivers run down my spine
> 
> On another note, I won't be able to go anywhere anytime soon as my country's kind of on lock down at the moment, so I'll probably be able to finish this in the near future.  
> Stay safe, y'all.

Teacups clink against one another in the cabinet as Sugawara rummages through it, searching for a good blend to start the day with.

It’s still quite early and the sun is on its way to climb the sky, creating an ocean of warm colours. Despite late summer turning into autumn, the weather is fairly good, neither too hot nor too cold, which is why Sugawara settles down on one of the plush armchairs facing the window front, feeling the light breeze on his skin.

The air feels good on his skin, clean and cool, and, inhaling deeply, he takes a sip from his still hot tea. It’s just so much fun, watching the birds rise up into the air day for day, singing with their small voices and bent beaks as if they had any place in shaping the world.

Sugawara’s hair shines white in the light of the early morning as he pushes his bangs out of his face and watches the sun with newfound interest as a thousand colours curl around it and greet the new day with enthusiastic vigour. It always is fun to watch the journey of the sun, although he hadn’t done it in a very long time, mainly due to the fact that the world was getting more and more hectic each day and that people seemed to require reassurance so much more frequently now.

He sighs, hands clutching his porcelain cup, as he thinks about the boy with the phoenix feather he still had to give an answer to. People always want answers, just answers and nothing else, and although that’s his job, it gets kind of troublesome and repetitive after a while.

Especially when the fate of all humankind is adding up to the same grand finale – which always is kind of disappointing, because most people don’t even know. It is a world heading towards ruin, a world steeped in the stench of death and there should not be even one tiny, glittering life shining so brilliantly amidst it, yet… yet there were beacons of light, illuminating the darkness which humanity had brought upon itself.

As always, there’s not too much time for him to think about that, though, and thus he gracefully gets up and brushes off his linen shirt when someone knocks on the door, knowing fully well that the person standing in front of it has a key for his apartment. “I’m coming,” he answers in that always-calm voice, placing his now empty cup in the sink and then moving towards the door.

Seeing Daichi that early in the morning isn’t really a surprise anymore, it’s become kind of a habit. Still, warmly he smiles at his guest and motions for him to come inside. “Do you want a tea or coffee of some sort?” He asks as Daichi sheds his jacket, placing it on a nearby chair.

“No, thank you,” the other politely declines, something he’s been doing as long as Sugawara can remember. Pretty smart thinking, but then again, Sugawara isn’t sure if it would work either way. He smiles kindly at his host and then waits for the man to sit down on the armchair again before he sits down himself. “Quite a nice day, isn’t it?” He remarks, idly looking outside as white clouds start to mar the blue sky. 

Sugawara laughs quietly into his fist, a flash of too many teeth visible for a split second before he covers them up again. “Don’t be so formal, Daichi!” He grins, shaking his head a little. “There’s a reason for your visit, isn’t there?” There always is one – people don’t just stop by because he’s so much fun to be around.

Daichi sighs, long and dragged out. “You’re right, there’s something I actually want to talk about. It’s… the current circumstances are worrying, Suga. More and more Lost pop up each week and even more Hunters don’t seem to show any qualms about taking them out in violent ways. It’s a sport for them, and the government is just letting it happen, hell, they even encourage it.”

He hums a little, listening as Daichi spills his worries, nodding now and then. “Daichi… is there a direct question for me or even the others? Do you want to hear my opinion or someone else’s?” It’s always best to make sure of that first thing.

Playing with the hem of his sleeve, Daichi pulls a little, golden coin out of his pocket and fiddles around with it. “I want your honest opinion on it for now, Suga. Not anyone else’s.”

“How interesting,” he says, tapping his lower lip with his index finger, “how very peculiar. Well, if you insist… it’s true, that you might be heading towards ruin, but it’s not like your fate is sealed. You, of all people, should know that there where death is must also be life. My advice to you is not to worry too much about what is outside of your control and instead you do as much as you can.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Daichi exhales loudly. “Great, that’s… really reassuring.” The coin in his hand shines golden. “And what do the others say about this matter?”

Sugawara’s smile gets a little wider, a little sharper. “I thought you’d never ask, Daichi.” He closes his eyes slightly, a frown etched on his face and contorting his milky white skin. “You seek to know what shall cause the downfall; the stars, the Earth, or the world of humans?” The darkness behind his eyes is soothing, warm and comforting at once. “The river of your memories shall lead you to where you must go.” He clears his throat, squinting at his guest. “Was I of any help?”

Daichi smiles at him with something like uncertainty in his eyes, scratching his nose a little as if trying to find an answer as fast as possible. “I suppose so, yeah. But… there’s no chance that you’ll elaborate on that, is there?” His tone is hopeful.

Shaking his head lightly, Sugawara fidgets with his hands in his lap. “No, that’s as much as I know. Sorry if you wanted something more precise.”

He waves, as if all of this is no big deal, as if it doesn’t cause him any worry. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Really, I should thank you for your help.” Daichi smiles softly, the nails of his fingers clicking against the coin one by one. “Considering that it really wouldn’t affect either of us.”

Sugawara chuckles, high and shrill. “How amusing,” he notes, eyes twinkling. “Yet, that’s true. Still – when I’ve decided that my time has come, may I request you to guide me as well, just as I have provided guidance for you?”

Daichi should know better than to seal a deal with a creature like him, honestly, but then again, Daichi was very peculiar himself; truly, a promising individual. “Of course,” he answers, his head inclined to one side. “It’s the least I can do.”

“I would appreciate it very much,” Sugawara says to convey his gratitude, his smile getting a little wider. “But enough of the chitchat! I believe our missing link is here.” He folds his hands in his lap once again, watching as Daichi opens his mouth to retort something, when a barely audible knock is heard. “If you don’t mind, could you get the door for me?” He asks sweetly, and Daichi nods.

Slowly, he raises from his armchair and with purposeful strides he walks over to the door, opening it for the newcomer. Into his apartment, a red-faced Yamaguchi stumbles, out of breath and feathers sticking to his clothes. “I’m so sorry, Sugawara-san!” He promptly starts apologizing after having greeted Daichi, bowing deeply before his elders. “I didn’t realize how late it already was!”

This time, Sugawara is the one to wave him off. “Don’t worry about it, Tadashi,” he says almost leisurely. Daichi, who’s grown accustomed to the boy’s antics over time, has settled down into his own chair again, watching the scene unfold with a slight smile on his lips. “Say, the sun is exceptionally pretty today, isn’t it?” He starts to divert Yamaguchi’s attention.

Always one to fall for it, Yamaguchi takes the bait. “Oh, it surely is!” Brushing the feathers, each a different shade of the rainbow, off of him, he swiftly moves into the kitchen to prepare a pot of tea, his hands moving fast and knowledgeable. “Especially from up close,” he continues from the other room, his head occasionally popping up from behind the counter. “And you won’t believe it, but I saw the boy! The one with the feather, you know?”

Sugawara clicks his tongue. “Did you tell him to come visit me again?”

Judging by Yamaguchi’s silence, he hadn’t. “He was gone rather fast,” the other finally continues, moving into the living room with the tea and several cups balanced in his hands. “Barely a lightning bolt in the shade, a lone flame in the ocean.”

He nods understandingly as the brunet sets the tea on the couch table and prepares three cups, then taking a seat across Daichi and crossing his legs, his feet tapping on the ground. Sugawara motions for his guest to take a cup, but Daichi still refuses. Shrugging, he picks up a mug himself. Despite the hot beverage inside, it feels cold in his hands; cold and slimy as he raises it to his lips and takes sip. Nothing is better than a good Earl Grey in the morning.

Contentedly, he sighs, the mug still half-raised to hide his impish smile. “There’s no need to hurry either way, I suppose. We will have enough opportunities later on.”

Yamaguchi presses his lips together; the freckles across his nose in stark contrast to his otherwise pale face. “If you say so, Sugawara-san, then that must be the truth.” He’s still fidgeting in his seat, always a little nervous, an exact opposite to Daichi.

“Tadashi, could it be that you’ve been visiting Tendou as of lately?” It’s a valid question; not one that really matters, but it’s always best to know as much as possible. And he smells like him.

As if on command, the other blanches even further, face almost abnormally white. “How- why would you think that, Sugawara-san?” His smile is crooked and lopsided; from the corners of his eyes, Sugawara can see Daichi subtly shaking his head, watching both of them with undivided attention.

“It was merely a guess. How is the kid doing?” He knows that Yamaguchi hasn’t been visiting Tendou because of the child, but Yamaguchi doesn’t need to know that as of right now.

The brunet’s eyes lighten up with something akin to affection, and his white face assumes some notion of colour. “He’s growing very fast! His riddles aren’t that good yet, but I’m sure he’ll get the hang of it sometime.”

Daichi now decides to clear his throat. “Pardon me for asking, but… Tendou – are we talking about the same Tendou? – has a child?” Face confused, he stares at Sugawara, unbelieving.

Chuckling, he answers, “Oh, didn’t you hear? He and Ushijima adopted a sphinx cub together. Isn’t that just lovely?” He clasps his hands together in his lap, beaming at his guest without any ill intentions.

“I… suppose it is?” He still sounds confused but seems to shrug it off rather quick. “Anyhow, thank you for the tea and information; I am in your debt once again.” He gets up, bowing a little before Sugawara and giving Yamaguchi an encouraging grin, which the boy reciprocates. “I should get going now, Iwaizumi wanted to discuss something with me.”

Sugawara smiles back knowingly. “If that is so, then farewell. Tell Iwaizumi to give Oikawa my best regards, and that he should kindly call me back once in a while, will you? You’re such a sweetheart!” He pretends to ignore the slight blush that spreads across Daichi’s face when the other nods and instead waves a little as Daichi makes his way over to the door.

It falls shut behind him, leaving only Yamaguchi and Sugawara in the cluttered apartment that the ash-haired man calls his own. “So, Yamaguchi, what’s the plan for today?” He asks his apprentice, even though that’s pretty much unnecessary.

Immediately, the younger boy pulls out a notebook from his pockets, flipping through it, his eyes scanning each and every page. “You wanted to teach me a little more about Reading and Predicting today, Sugawara-san,” he finally notes, shutting the book again and expectantly looking up at him.

“If that is so.” He relaxes back into his armchair, nuzzling his cheek against the soft material. It truly is an astonishing seating accommodation. “How much do you know about Reading already, Tadashi?” He asks.

Yamaguchi’s eyes light up with interest, a look he likes seeing on the younger boy. “I know that you can do it without any tools, but in the guide it says that beginners should start with easily accessible things like glass balls or tarot cards, even though they have a higher error margin.”

He laughs a little into his hand. “Did you learn that guide by heart? Please don’t end up like Tsukishima or Kawanishi.”

Blushing profusely, Yamaguchi shakes his head. “N-no, that’s just common sense!”

Waving the stammering and stuttering boy off, he continues, “Anyhow, that’s true. Once you learn how to Read by yourself, your chances of being Chosen rise as well. I don’t condemn anyone for using mediums, but isn't there something you should always remember when working with them?”

Yamaguchi nods seriously, his cowlick bobbing up and down, following the motions of his head. “Of course. Like I said, errors are likely to occur and especially tarot cards are a limited medium. And you should never leave your glass ball uncovered when you’re going out.” He looks proud of himself as he recites whatever he’s read in that guide.

“Bravo, Tadashi,” Sugawara praises his pupil with a smile on his face, “can you also tell me why you shouldn’t leave the ball uncovered?” Still smiling, his index finger taps against his lower lip.

The boy scratches the back of his neck, hesitating for just a second. “Oh, uhm… so you don’t accidentally lure any spirits or other entities into your home?”

Giving a high, clear laugh, Sugawara shakes his head, his white hair fanning out like a translucent halo around him. “Nice try. No, it’s so you don’t accidentally burn your house down if the sun hits it at a weird angle.”

The tips of Yamaguchi’s ears burn a bright red as he hides his face behind his hands, groaning into them. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I forgot that…” Hastily, he fishes out his notebook and a pen and scrawls something inside the little book, nodding all the while. “Of course, of course.” The tip of his tongue pokes out between his lips as he leans over to get a better look at what he’s writing – it really is kind of cute.

“You know that you don’t have to write everything down, don’t you? You have to let it come to you naturally, not by forcing it.” He watches Yamaguchi, who only hums in agreement, with hawk-like eyes, tracking his every movement.

All the while, the sun has risen higher into the blue sky, shining her warm light into his living room and making shadows and colours dance across the floor in quick succession. It truly is a beautiful day; much too beautiful to stay inside. “I think I want to go out today. I’m sure it’ll prove to be beneficial for your training as well. Just think of it as a practical test.”

Yamaguchi seems to be gnawing on the inside of his cheek, his eyes darting between Sugawara in front of him and the door. The scales on his hands reflect the morning light in all its beauty. “This early?” He asks, sounding uncertain and timid. 

“This early,” Sugawara confirms, a never wavering smile etched into his face, pupils just a little too large. “It’ll be fun, don’t worry!” He jumps up from his seat, placing the half-forgotten mug on the coffee table in front of him and strides over to Yamaguchi, pulling him up by his hands. They feel sweaty, clammy, in his own.

Watching Yamaguchi gulp nervously, he leads the younger to the door, grabbing a colourful overcoat on his way and throwing it over his shoulders. He’s only wearing fuzzy socks, but that shouldn’t matter now.

Sugawara waits as Yamaguchi locks the door behind them, whistling a quiet tune. The brunet almost drops the key. Laughing a little, the white-haired man jumps down the stairs leading to the ground floor, Yamaguchi always on his heels. “Are you ready? Maybe already Seeing something?”

Yamaguchi shakes his head, but it’s too late; Sugawara has already opened the front door and sunlight is streaming into the foyer, illuminating it in warm colours.

“Are you completely sure?” He digs deeper, holding the door open so the boy can step outside. “Nothing at all?”

Pondering the question for a bit, Yamaguchi frowns. “It’s- it’s really blurry but… faces? I think I’m Seeing faces.”

Sugawara beams at his apprentice, letting the door close behind them and starting to walk down the street. “See, I told you that you wouldn’t need fancy toys in order to See!”

Catching up to him, his shoes clacking against the asphalt, Yamaguchi watches him from the corners of his eyes. “But… I’m so bad at Reading, Sugawara, and you’re so good. It’s just…” He breaks off, heaving a sigh.

“Of course it isn’t easy,” Sugawara pats him on the back, giving his apprentice an encouraging grin. “It never will be easy, but you can learn to interpret what you See. That’s just how it works.”

“I know.” Yamaguchi is biting on his lower lip, staring at the ground. “But it’s still so frustrating! I’ve been your apprentice for so long now and I’m still no good at it! I knew you should’ve chosen someone else instead.”

Sugawara shakes his head, skipping over a crack in the sidewalk. “You seem to forget that I didn’t choose you at all, Yamaguchi. I simply felt that you’d be my successor, that’s all.” It’s no good trying to argue with a child lacking confidence, that much Sugawara has learnt in all his years.

Yamaguchi doesn’t answer – instead he plops down on the curb of the sidewalk, burying his head in his arms. His shoulders aren’t shaking, so Sugawara assumes he isn’t crying, but he also doesn’t want to urge the boy to go on if he’s that uncomfortable. He sits down next to him, watching as other people hurry past, regarding them with suspicious looks and furrowed brows. Softly, he pats Yamaguchi’s shoulder blade, feeling the younger boy breathe calmly. A pattern.

“Sorry,” the brunet finally croaks out after a few minutes of staring into his own lap. “That was very unprofessional of me.”

It was.

The sun is warming them from above, shining down and kissing their skin. It catches in Sugawara’s pearl white hair and Yamaguchi’s scales, creating a certain kind of glow around them.

“It’s fine,” he retorts, stroking Yamaguchi’s hair and pushing a strand of it behind his ear. “Why don’t we just stay here for some time, what about that?” It’s a pity, because Yamaguchi had been right, initially – they would’ve met a lot of interesting faces along their way.

But it is what it is. Yamaguchi nods timidly, eyes full of guilt. “That should be fine, I think. Sorry for being such a nuisance.”

Sugawara decides to let it slide for once, not commenting on Yamaguchi’s self-deprecating comments. It hurts him physically, but it’s not something he can change in just one day. “Alright then.” He raises his hand to point at a woman across the street, a phone held to her ear, not paying attention to where she’s going. “Do you know what kind of thing she is?”

Inclining his head to one side, Yamaguchi focuses on her, taking in her appearance. “I... don’t really know, but she feels red, a really deep shade of crimson or scarlet maybe. I can’t See anything that symbolizes such a strong feeling in her future though.” He frowns, searching his pockets for his book.

“That’s because she doesn’t have one. She’s human, and that is the colour of danger.” Sugawara pauses for a second, watching as she crosses the street with large strides. “This woman is going to die very soon. Poor thing.”

Next to him, scuffing a stone on the streets with his foot, Yamaguchi fidgets. “Shouldn’t we at least warn her, then?” It’s well-meant, Sugawara knows that, but it’s unfitting for a semi-immortal.

“You read the guide, didn’t you?” It’s a pointless question – that boy devours any book he can get his hands on. Nevertheless, Sugawara waits until Yamaguchi nods before he continues. “What does it state in chapter one, first paragraph, second sentence?” 

Yamaguchi doesn’t have to think more than a moment, before his lips move on their own, forming words. “’No mortal is to be alerted to their impending doom to avoid unnecessary panic; the exception is the impending ruin of a larger group of people (numbers varying, still in debate).’”

Sugawara clicks his tongue against his teeth, rolling his eyes. “They still haven’t decided? It’s been, what, a few centuries now? They should really hurry up. Oh, how I hate paperwork, it truly is the worst!”

Of course his apprentice doesn’t understand _(mainly because he’s way too young to understand)_ but he nevertheless nods, face serious. “I hope they update it soon because I really want to buy the finished version.” He rummages around in his pocket, fishing out the guide, an 800-page book. How it fits into his pocket still is a mystery to Sugawara. Maybe a new enchantment – he really hasn’t been keeping track of those, as they change every few years, just like every other trend.

The title of the book is proudly displayed as Yamaguchi opens it somewhere in the middle. Sugawara still can’t understand why they chose a title as boring as ‘ _Prediction and Seeing for Beginners, Amateurs and Professionals: The Ultimate Guide, complete with Tips and Tricks as well as a private Interview with a world-acclaimed Oracle. How to convince your Family and Friends that you truly are someone sent by the Gods in just 11 easy Steps you can follow at Home. Vol. 2, Edition 2.04._ ’. If it had been up to him, he would’ve chosen something catchier and shorter, maybe even a pun. Just shows how uncreative some of these century-old creatures are.

But Yamaguchi is already thumbing through the book, looking for something specific. “Apparently they still have until the 22nd of August to decide.” He stuffs the book into his pocket.

“That’s what you took the book out for? To look at the date when it finally will be updated?” He laughs quietly into his hand as Yamaguchi blushes slightly. “And anyhow, that piece of information was rather useless, don’t you think? They didn’t even give a year.”

Mouth forming an ‘o’, Yamaguchi stares at him. “You’re right,” he whispers, face blanching in an instant. “They didn’t even give a year. Oh my god, what if it will be updated on the 22nd in a century? What then?”

Still laughing, he pats the brunette on the back. “Calm down Yamaguchi, it’s just a book. It’s not like your life depends on it.” 

Yamaguchi nods, face still white. “Yeah, I guess so…” He doesn’t look too convinced, but at least he isn’t biting his nails out of sheer nervousness. “Sugawara-san, can we go back? I want to check something really quick.”

He makes a sound in the back of his throat, resembling a hum. “And it can’t wait?” When Yamaguchi shakes his head, he gets up, brushing the dust off and watching as Yamaguchi does the same, following his example.

“There’s… something I’ve been a missing, a piece of the larger picture I haven’t taken into account.” His eyes flash with different colours, and that’s when Sugawara notices that the sun is hidden behind a wall of clouds – how peculiar that he hadn’t noticed it before.

“I suppose we should, it looks like it’s about to rain at any given moment.” And besides, there’s something about the wall of clouds that makes him uneasy, but Yamaguchi doesn’t need to know that.

Together, they set off into the direction of the apartment complex, the wall of clouds looming behind them, advancing slowly.

If Sugawara isn’t mistaken, he can hear a whirring, disk-like sound between the roll of thunder and the sound of approaching lashing rain. 


	9. October: Wheel of Fortune and The Hierophant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of Hanamaki and Matsukawa (who are definitely functioning adults, why would you even feel the need to ask) that ends in a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told ya I'd finish this soon. 
> 
> they're sending a lot of stuff over email and whatnot to occupy us, but not even that can keep me busy forever  
> i really liked writing this chapter, their relationship is just so much fun!!

Humming a little, Hanamaki stops the time on the stopwatch that’s laying in the palm of his hand, looking down with narrowed eyes. “You’re even worse than usual,” he comments, raising an eyebrow at the man in the indoor pool. “What’s up with that?”

Matsukawa groans, letting his forehead rest against the cool tiles and panting heavily. Water is running down his face, dripping from his hair and mingling with the pool water. “That’s what you’re saying, but you could be lying for all I know,” he remarks, raising an eyebrow as well.

He gasps in mock-horror, half-heartedly resting his hand above the place where his heart would be. “How shocking, my own boyfriend accusing me of a crime like this? You truly wound me, Issei. I don’t think we can go on seeing each other; this is goodbye.” Sniffling quietly _(and attracting the eyes of the people around them)_ he turns on his heels to walk off, but a wet hand grabs his ankle, keeping him in place.

“I’m so sorry, babe,” Matsukawa apologizes with a shit-eating grin on his face, his upper body half on the edge of the pool. “I didn’t realize it would hurt you this much. You must forgive me for my wrongdoings just as God would forgive me.”

Pretending to think about it for a moment, he crosses his arms in front of his chest. The water is uncomfortably sticky on his skin, but trying to get rid of Matsukawa is just too much trouble. “Gee, I really don’t know… I mean, you have great abs, so I guess I’ll have to the let it slide this one time.” He winks at his boyfriend, running one hand through his strawberry-blond hair.

Matsukawa winks back – just with both eyes and flexes his unoccupied arm a little. “I’m glad you’ve given up comparing me to Iwaizumi; I simply couldn’t have won against him.”

Hanamaki nods, stepping a little closer to the edge and sitting down – coincidentally, he is also wearing swimming trunks. Probably a wise decision inside an indoor swimming pool. The water is warm around his legs, and he watches how his movements create small ripples on the surface. “Probably better that way, as you are objectively inferior to him – the only one to ever beat him in an arm-wrestling match will be me.”

Resting his head on his forearms, Matsukawa looks up at him, smiling lazily. “Sure thing, babe,” he replies, hovering in the water and only sometimes moving his feet _(no, not feet; hooves)_ to keep him afloat. “You’re obviously the best there ever was.”

“Yeah,” Hanamaki agrees absentmindedly, watching a small family of four play in the adjacent swimming pool, “and also the best there ever will be. Good to know that you’ve finally accepted the truth.”

Matsukawa heaves a sigh, running a finger along the muscles in Hanamaki’s calf and following his gaze. “I think I’m done for the day; do you want to go back home or…?” He leaves the rest of the sentence hanging in the air.

Shrugging, Hanamaki splashes him in the face, grinning as the black-haired man rubs his eyes and shakes his head. Small droplets fly everywhere. “Yeah, let’s go. Can we stop at the supermarket though? I’m kind of craving something sweet right now.”

Matsukawa snorts, lifting himself out of the water using only his arms. “How can you say that when I’m right here?” Drying himself off with a towel that the strawberry-blond hands to him, he pads over to the showers, motioning for Hanamaki to follow. “But it’s no problem, we can do whatever you want. I’m up for anything – maybe not an armed robbery or murder, but you get the gist.”

Hanamaki is right behind him, curling one arm around his waist. “You can learn about my tragic backstory and my plans for revenge later, right now we need to move.”

He pinches his boyfriend in the side, which is rewarded with a high-pitched squeak. “As you wish.”

* * *

The store isn’t too crowded at the moment, meaning almost all aisles are empty. Matsukawa is currently browsing through several magazines, the newest edition of _Pokémon_ in one hand and _Disney’s Classics (remade)_ in the other. Looks like he’s unable to decide which one to buy. 

Not that Hanamaki can blame him. The strawberry-blond him himself is staring at the baked goods, which are making his mouth water. But unlike Matsukawa, he actually knows what he came here for. Smiling at the baker, an elderly black woman with grey hair and kind eyes, he asks for four creampuffs, holding up three fingers. She gives him a confused look but doesn’t comment on it, instead bagging the sweets and handing them over to him with a “here you go, hun! have a nice day!”. Hanamaki thanks her and strolls over to his boyfriend, examining the magazines as well.

Matsukawa’s eyes are narrowed ever so slightly, as if he’s deep in thought – at least until Hanamaki starts speaking. “Why don’t you just buy both if you can’t decide?”

His boyfriend’s face relaxes visibly, and he nods slightly. “Finally some good advice.” Looking at the paper bag in Hanamaki’s hand, he gestures towards the checkout. “You ready to go?”

Humming in approval, the smaller of the two makes his way over, dropping his goods in front of the cashier and waiting for Matsukawa to do the same. The young girl, maybe around 17 years old, scans their items, smiling to herself when she sees the Disney magazine. 

Bagging their stuff _(paper bags of course)_ , they head out into the cool night, temperatures dropping now that autumn has really made itself known. The stars are clearly visible against the darkening sky, twinkling in colours neither of them can name. With his free hand, Hanamaki grabs Matsukawa’s warm one, intertwining their fingers. “The girl right now, she’s bought that magazine as well.”

Matsukawa only hums in acknowledgement, not asking why his boyfriend – of all people – would know that. “Alright then. Wanna grab some pizza on our way back?”

Smiling up at his _(slightly)_ taller companion, Hanamaki cocks his head to one side. “Do you even need to ask?”

* * *

The apartment is quiet when Matsukawa turns the key in the lock and opens the door. Quiet and dark, until he finds the light switch and the whole place is illuminated in red and orange hues.

Hanamaki drops their groceries off in the kitchen – of course only after patting their USB Hub Monster on its tiny, soft head, watching as its red eyes light up in greeting. Oh, how he loves his little buddy, even if the thing looks a little weird at night.

Joining Matsukawa back in the kitchen and moving past their inflatable balloon chairs, he starts unloading the stuff they’ve bought while his boyfriend is taking out two of their ‘little heart’ wineglasses and placing them on the counter. It’s kind of hard to drink out of them, but it’s always worth it when they see their guests’ reactions, especially Oikawa who hates them with passion. He watches for a moment as Matsukawa pours some liquid _(probably Monster Energy)_ into them.

Sighing fondly, he moves over to the windowsill to light their mac-scented candle, because nothing is more romantic than lighting a candle, that’s just common sense. While he’s over there, he also decides to water the Chia Pet Gizmo they keep there, which already seems a little dry. He really can’t understand why Iwaizumi and Oikawa would call him and Matsukawa childish when they obviously handle being grown-ups so well.

Already finished, Matsukawa has relocated to their living room, putting their pizzas on the coffee table and searching for a movie on one of their streaming services _(and they definitely use streaming services, because who would stream movies illegally for free if you could also pay for them?)._ Joining his boyfriend on their black hippopotamus loveseat, he grabs his Nicolas Cage pillow and hugs it, looking at the black-haired man as Matsukawa tries to pick something they can watch.

In the end, they both decide on some kind of trashy anime they’d never heard of before. It’s not very good, but at least it’s funny to mock the show for its flaws – and oh boy, does it have a lot of them.

Unsurprisingly enough, it’s Matsukawa who voices his opinions first. “You know… all these cutesy brother-sister scenes don’t really go hand in hand with the gore and the violence…”

Hanamaki nudges him in the ribcage with his big toe. “Shush, you. This is a masterpiece, can’t you see? It definitely excels in the ‘humour’-category.”

“Too bad that it’s a horror anime, then,” Matsukawa hums, pushing his foot away. “But to be fair, I don’t know why they censor half of the stuff and ignore the other half, I don’t understand the extent of their relationship or why there are even side characters in the first place, I don’t get the morale of this show…” He trails off, Hanamaki nodding along.

“Exactly. And worst of all, it sounds like that one character in Homestuck. Although, you have to admit, the opening is kind of alright.”

Shrugging, Matsukawa pushes the half-eaten pizza away from him. “It’s okay, I guess. Not that good but also not that bad.” He stretches a little, yawning into his hand.

“Oh c’mon, don’t tell me you’re already tired. The night has just started!” Jokingly, he pinches Matsukawa’s side, eliciting an even bigger yawn.

“It’s just what happens when you get older, Hiro,” his boyfriend mumbles into the leather of the couch, blinking sleepily at him. “And besides, you didn’t swim like a hundred laps today, and neither did you-“ he gestures at his body- “have to concentrate to stay like this 24/7.”

Shrugging, Hanamaki crawls over to Matsukawa, leaning his back against his chest. The other man makes a small ‘oof’-sound, but doesn’t comment on it, instead crossing his arms in front of Hanamaki’s chest and resting his chin on the other’s shoulder. “Okay, first off, I’m the older one here and second, no one’s forcing you to do either of those things,” he comments, leaning his head against Matsukawa’s.

The apartment is only dimly illuminated around them _(mainly Halloween decorations that they had bought back in July),_ and it smells like the mac-candle Hanamaki had lit earlier, but it’s a good moment, despite the gruesome show playing on their TV. It’s cosy, staying here like this in the middle of October with no obligations or duties to attend to.

His boyfriend hums quietly. “I guess not.” Matsukawa bumps their heads together, snorting when Hanamaki scrunches up his nose. “If I fall asleep now, will you promise me not to snoop in my dreams or to alter them in any way?”

“Aw babe, first off, you know I can’t control that,” Hanamaki whines, face blank, “and second, it’s just too much fun. I swear, you dream the weirdest shit, mate.” He grins when the other raises his hand to lightly slap him on the arm.

“Please don’t remind me,” Matsukawa groans into his hand while rubbing his eyes. Now that Hanamaki’s really looking at him, he does seem tired. Dark shadows have formed under his eyes, and his head keeps falling to the side, resting against the leather of the couch whenever he drifts off.

Hanamaki pats him on the head, stealing Matsukawa’s slice of pizza and munching happily on it. “You should prolly go to bed, you don’t look too hot right now,” he retorts, almost choking when Matsukawa grabs the hand laying on his boyfriend’s head and squeezes it tightly.

Matsukawa nods. If he isn’t even denying his fatigue, then it must be pretty bad. “Yeah, I suppose so,” he says, playing with Hanamaki’s fingers all the while. “Say, Hiro,” he starts, eyes drooping as he cuddles into both the couch and Hanamaki; he’ll definitely regret that tomorrow.

“Hm?” Hanamaki’s focused on the TV, eyes following the little girl and her brother and their weird-as-fuck adventures. “What is it?” With the hand that’s not greasy, he strokes his boyfriend’s black hair, detangling it from the mess it had been before.

“Do you ever want to have, like, children?” It’s a bold question; they’re young, they haven’t been dating that long yet and children had never been an option before.

He pauses, pondering the question. “I don’t know yet,” he answers honestly, only resuming the patting-motion when Matsukawa nudges his hand ever so slightly. “Does it have to be a human baby?”

Matsukawa snorts; it’s barely audible. “I guess not. Doesn’t have to be now, either. Sorry for asking.”

Setting to answer, Hanamaki belatedly realizes that Matsukawa has already fallen asleep.

* * *

Matsukawa is kind of confused when he wakes up in their shared French-fry-themed bed, staring at the psychedelic-themed ceiling. He can’t remember falling asleep in their bedroom, of all places, and, even weirder, Hanamaki is nowhere to be found.

Normally his boyfriend is the one to sleep in late, and it’s unusual for him to be awake before noon.

Dragging himself out of the warm, soft bed _(his back hurts)_ and setting his hooves on the cold floor, he watches the morning sun through their window. Hopefully Hanamaki isn’t preparing breakfast.

The other isn’t bad at cooking per se; his waffles and the like are pretty decent, good even, but every other meal is a complete disaster. His scrambled eggs taste like rubber, his noodles are always hard no matter how long he cooks them, there are plastic pieces in the rice he makes, and the list only goes on.

Yawning into his hand, Matsukawa moves out of their bedroom and into the kitchen, plugging in the coffee maker and listening to the water starting to boil. The pizza boxes from yesterday are in the trash and the glasses in the sink.

As he waits for his first meal of the day to finish, he strolls into the living room area. Thankfully, Hanamaki had enough common sense to turn off the TV, and… well, it seems that he has found the other.

A shock of strawberry-blond hair is peeking out behind their loveseat, only half visible. Matsukawa creeps closer, careful not to wake his boyfriend should the other be asleep, and peers over the backrest.

The sight almost takes away his breath.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, not because he particularly believes in God or the like, but simply because it seems appropriate at the moment. Sitting on Hanamaki’s chest, drooling a little, is a small, black puppy. Hanamaki’s arms are loosely wrapped around the animal, stroking its fur from time to time. At the exclamation he looks up, smirking softly.

“Morning, babe,” he greets, gesturing for Matsukawa to come closer. “Was already wondering when you’d finally wake up.”

Kneeling down next to the couch, he watches as the little pup’s chest rises with every tiny breath it takes. Its fur is shining in the morning light, as black as the night. “A dog, Hiro? Really?” He can’t keep the amusement out of his voice.

Hanamaki tries not to laugh as to not wake the puppy from its slumber. “She’s been very excited to meet you.”

Matsukawa hums in thought, deciding that it’d be best to just play along. “Already decided on a name?” He hopes that, whatever it may be, it isn’t too bad.

“Y’know, the usual suggestions. Steamroller, Kneecapsdestroyer3000, Alberb Einstiem…” He trails off, eyes full of fondness. “But I thought I’d let you decide. Because I’m simply such a good boyfriend.” 

He nods sagely. “Truly a wise decision.” Watching the animal for a few seconds, a few names run through his brain. “Can we just call her Shrek?”

Hanamaki snorts loudly, almost waking the dog – just almost, though. Instead of opening her eyes, she just turns her head away, sleeping on. “As much as I’d love to, she doesn’t seem to like the name and I also think Oikawa and Iwaizumi would, like, try to adopt our dog because we aren’t ‘mature’ enough.”

Their dog. They really had a dog. A small, hairy baby.

Matsukawa can feel his heart thump in his chest, swelling with joy. “What about... hm, let’s say, Baz?”

Grinning at him, Hanamaki cocks his head to the side. “Baz as in ‘bazooka’? If yeah, then I’m up for it.”

“You read my thoughts.” Grinning back _(they really shared one brain cell),_ Matsukawa reaches out to run his hand across the puppy’s fur, feeling its silken texture beneath his fingers. She was warm; warm and alive and breathing.

He flinches back slightly when she moves under his hand, stretches her tiny paws and yawns, showing off sharp teeth and a pink tongue. Slowly, her eyes open, a dark shade of brown, and with newfound interest she regards Matsukawa in front of her. “Morning, darling,” he whispers to her, watching as her ears perk up.

She’s shaken around a little when Hanamaki beneath her starts laughing. “You never call me that, how rude,” he complains, but there’s no malice behind the words. His eyes sparkle, creasing around the edges.

“Do you want me to?”

“On second thought, no” Hanamaki snickers as the puppy paws at his shirt, sniffing it curiously and then trying to jump off, “hey no, don’t do that,” he warns her, sitting up himself and lowering her onto the floor where she immediately darts off into some random direction.

Matsukawa watches her go. “And our landlord said it’s fine?” He asks as Baz pads around on unsure feet, wagging her little tail and sniffing everything she can reach.

“Oh, yeah,” Hanamaki answers leisurely, brushing the dog hair off of himself and stretching a little. Must’ve been uncomfortable. “I told her right away when I came back so there would be no ugly surprises. She seems totally cool with it, just told us not to disturb the other tenants.”

Matsukawa nods in understanding. “That’s fair I suppose. Is she already vaccinated and all that jazz?”

Hanamaki looks at him, lips drawn into a Cheshire-Cat-like grin. “’Course she is, I made sure of that right away. We only need to buy some dog stuff and we’re good to go. Can we buy her a Godzilla onesie?”

He rises from his kneeling position, offering his boyfriend a hand to help him up as well. “If that’s what you want, then sure. But remember to keep her away from Iwaizumi if you decide to do that.”

His boyfriend mock-salutes. “Sir, yes Sir.”

Shaking his head at Hanamaki’s antics, he follows Baz into the kitchen where she’s currently standing in front of their balloon-like furniture, staring up at it in awe – or at least what Matsukawa supposes to be awe. She’s a dog, he can’t tell her feelings that well. “Gotta make all of that dog-proof now, huh,” he mumbles under his breath as Baz redirects her attention to him.

She really is quite small, and he wants to do nothing more than to pick her up and press her against his face. Which is the reason why he does exactly that. Panting quietly, her tongue rolls out and licks him across the nose.

Behind him, he can hear Hanamaki still snickering, probably leaning against the counter with an amused expression. “Glad you’re getting along so well,” he comments, fondness evident in his voice.

“It’d be hard not to,” he replies easily, letting Baz nudge her head into his chest and drooling all over him. “How could I resist such a cute thing? I’m only human, after all.”

“Sure you are,” Hanamaki’s tone is teasing as he steps closer, preparing two cups of coffee with the forgotten coffee machine that Matsukawa had plugged in earlier. He gestures for Matsukawa to sit down with the puppy, and, because he is a good boyfriend, Matsukawa obliges.

Softly, he places her on the table in front of him. “Just don’t let this turn into a habit, yeah?” He whispers to her in secret. “You’re not supposed to be on the table, y’know?”

A lopsided grin on his face, Hanamaki places his cup of coffee before him, sitting down with his own cup. “I’ve already devised a plan. I get to play with her and you do the training, what do you think?”

Patting her fur with his one hand and taking the cup of still warm, steaming coffee into the other, he stares straight ahead at Hanamaki. “In your dreams maybe.”

Hanamaki sighs, dejected. The morning light paints his strawberry-blond hair a lighter shade of pink, almost glowing a little. “Oh, I knew you’d be a killjoy, but I didn’t think it would happen this soon. The wounds you inflict on me, dear Issei, are truly beyond cure.”

“Fear not, my beloved one.” Setting down the cup, he reaches across the table for Hanamaki’s hand to squeeze it tightly. “We will conquer this challenge together, as we have conquered so many challenges before. It will be but a minor issue in the story of our never-ending love.”

Sighing dramatically, Hanamaki squeezes his hand back _(feels more like he’s breaking all of Matsukawa’s bones)_ and pretends to swoon. “Oh, woe is me! What wise words you speak, my angel, in these trying times.”

If Matsukawa hadn’t known him since high school and spent the entirety of college sharing a dorm with him, he would have guessed that Hanamaki majored in Drama.

Patting Baz a little more _(she really likes being patted, okay),_ he lets go of Hanamaki’s hand to reach for his own cup and takes a long, drawn-out sip from it, just to spite his boyfriend. “Thank you, darling, I really try my best.”

Hanamaki murmurs something that sounds a suspicious lot like ‘insufferable prick’, but he pretends not to hear it, ruffling Baz’s instead. She deserves all the attention in the world, as she just is the goodest little girl that there is, no doubt, none at all. “So what’s the plan for today?” He finally asks when the silence drags on.

“Probably buying dog stuff, I guess.” Hanamaki shrugs, flashing him a half-hearted peace sign and chugging the rest of his drink in one go, wiping the corner of his mouth afterwards. “What do you wanna do?”

Matsukawa hums into his cup, watching the dark substance swish around as Baz licks the palm of his hand, still not satisfied with the amount of pats she’s already gotten, the insatiable little thing that she is. “That’s fine with me. Are we taking her with us?”

Getting up from his seat, Hanamaki places his empty cup in the sink _(Matsukawa is starting to wonder if he even knows how a sink works)_ and leans onto the counter, watching them. “We can’t leave her alone just yet, and it’s probably better if she’s with us, so yeah, I say we take her along. Maybe we can even rub it into Oikawa’s and Iwaizumi’s faces while we’re at it.”

He likes that thought. First, these two have the audacity to get married before them, and then they also live in a goddamn mansion. It’s an ugly one, but still… the nerve some people had.

Hanamaki starts chuckling; whether it is because he knows what Matsukawa is thinking or because he’s accidentally pulled a funny face is a mystery to him. Then again, it doesn’t matter that much if Hanamaki is happy. “We should buy some Halloween stuff while we’re at it.”

Quirking up an eyebrow, Hanamaki fixes him with an amused look. “Even more Halloween decorations?” He asks.

Matsukawa picks up the small dog and holds her to his chest, stepping closer to his boyfriend. “I thought you were the one… but if you think there’s something as too much Halloween stuff, then I think we might not be meant for one another.”

“Was a joke, boo.” Smiling, Hanamaki pulls him in, careful not to squash the little puppy between them, and presses a firm kiss onto his lips. They taste like black liquorice and profiteroles and a hint of peppermint.

Closing his eyes and raising one arm to run it through Hanamaki’s short hair, he sighs into the other’s mouth.

Hanamaki is the first one to pull away, a mischievous grin on his face as he frees Baz from Matsukawa’s embrace, quickly stepping away with her. “You should get dressed, honey, and also maybe brush your teeth. You taste like coffee and morning breath, and those two just don’t go well together. Oh, and also take your swimming stuff with you while you’re at it, she likes water.” Sticking his tongue out, he spins around and grabs his coat from the nearby coat rack, Baz always securely in his arms.

Matsukawa smiles after him softly. “Asshole.”

Indignantly, his boyfriend turns around to him, a hand pressed to his heart and mouth wide open. “I heard that!”

Shooting him an unimpressed, unapologetic look, Matsukawa moves to go into their bathroom. “You were supposed to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> could you tell that I'm a dog person? no yeah, you def could
> 
> also, if i had to see these monstrosities that are their furniture, then so do you
> 
> [USB Hub Monster](https://www.instructables.com/id/USB-Hub-Monster/)  
> [Wine Glass](https://www.designboom.com/design/little-heart-wine-glass-by-etienne-meneau/)  
> [Balloon Furniture](https://www.coolthings.com/blowing-series-balloon-furniture/)  
> [Mac Candle](https://www.twelvesouth.com/products/inspire)  
> [Chia Pet Gizmo](https://www.walmart.com/ip/Chia-Pet-Gizmo-from-Gremlins-Decorative-Pottery-Planter-Easy-to-Do-and-Fun-to-Grow-Novelty-Gift-As-Seen-on-TV/797128232)  
> [Hippo Couch](https://www.coolthings.com/hippopotamus-chair/)  
> [Nicolas Cage Pillow](https://www.amazon.com/DoubleUSA-Nicolas-Pillowcases-Zipper-Pillow/dp/B07HFC5W59?language=en_US)  
> [French Fry Bed](https://www.coolthings.com/french-fries-bed/)


	10. November: The Moon and The Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi loves being out at sea; it's calming, lovely, even in late autumn.  
> What he loves even more, is when Bokuto decides to visit him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished it. This was one of the chapters that i really looked forward to writing, and i'm glad it's done now!
> 
> this is the chapter that the animal death (it's really minor) pertains to

Waves lap against the quiet shore, chipping away at the sand and the stone.

The air is fresh near the sea, as it always has been, always will be.

That’s what Akaashi likes most about it – the cleanness of the air, a fresh breeze playing with his hair, the sound of the waves on a calm day like this. It’s quite beautiful, to say the least.

So he’s sitting there, not that far out at sea, bare feet dangling in the water that would be too cold for a normal human to swim in. Combing his hair and adjusting the branches of red corals on his head, he watches the waves rise and decline as they shape their own path, becoming one in the end.

His white silk robes, trimmed with gold, soak up the seawater where they meet the ocean, but it doesn’t bother Akaashi. In order to be bothered by that, he’d have to spend a lot more time on land than in the water.

Instead, he just hums a little as his robes get dragged around by the current, flowing like the water itself. His voice is as clear as a bell when he starts singing, the sound carried by the waves.

_There was a king in Thule,  
Was faithful till the grave,  
To whom his mistress, dying,  
A golden goblet gave._  
  


Still combing his hair, lips moving along to the ballad, he watches as tall figure, clad in feathers, approaches him, its strong wings making it soar through the air so high up that even the thought of it makes him dizzy. With fluttering feathers, the creature lands on his rock, ruffles up its feathers and, with a voice as clear as his own, takes over.

  
_Nought was to him more precious;  
He drained it at every bout;  
His eyes with tears ran over,  
As oft as he drank thereout.  
  
_

After the last words have left its lips, it- _he_ smiles at Akaashi, eyes crinkling at the edges. “I’ve missed you, Keiji.”

Smiling back, Akaashi reaches out to fix the lopsided crown on Bokuto’s head, righting it carefully with his nimble, skilled fingers. “As I have missed you, Koutarou, even though it hasn’t been that long, I suppose. It’s good to see you, even though you came later than… anticipated.”

Bokuto laughs a little, throwing his head back and almost dropping his crown in the process. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, wiping the corner of his left eye where a stray tear escaped him. “You know how it is – I had lunch with Tetsu and he brought someone with him. The guy’s really shy, but also super smart and funny!”

Resting a hand on Bokuto’s bare chest, Akaashi doesn’t even try to suppress the chuckle that’s coming from his own throat, merely shielding his mouth with his other hand. “That sounds like good news, then.”

Beaming at him, Bokuto nods. “Oh, it definitely is! I’m sure you’ll meet him soon as well. Tetsu seems to like him a lot.” He pulls the other into a hug, almost squashing Akaashi’s ribcage in the process.

“Is that jealousy I detect?” He teases, eyes twinkling lightly, and shifts so he’s a little more comfortable on the rock.

Bokuto snorts. “Why would I be jealous when I’ve got you?” Pressing a small kiss on Akaashi’s cheek, he rests his head on top of the other’s, careful not to disturb the branches too much.

Akaashi blushes softly, a rose colour tinging his cheeks. Bokuto’s words shouldn’t have that much of an effect on him. Instead, he presses on. “Your voice has gotten better again, hasn’t it?”

His companion sighs a little, staring off into the distance. His eyes seem to track the movement of the waves. “I guess so. It’s… better that way, I guess, what with the bad signs and all.”

He doesn’t have to ask which bad signs Bokuto is referencing. “But you being here is a good sign, truly. When you’re here, a bright future lies ahead of us, full of happiness and harmony and joy.”

Playing with Akaashi’s dark hair and wrapping it around his fingers, Bokuto smiles gently. “You praise me too much, Keiji. Those are kind words for someone like you.”

It’s silent for a moment. Then, “What do you mean, ‘someone like me’?” He scoffs, turning around to face Bokuto, who just grins at him dumbly, a loveable smile on his face.

“Oh, you know… for someone who’s always so, uhm, serious and critical and like, yeah-“ Bokuto stumbles on, furiously rubbing the nape of his neck, his face turning a bright shade of red. “Hah, yeah you get the gist, uh.”

Akaashi interrupts his stuttering by pressing a finger to his lips, effectively shushing him. “It’s alright Koutarou, I was just joking.”

Bokuto groans, trying to hide his face in his hands. “Then don’t make such a deadpan face when you do it!”

Staring at him for a second, a smile creeps onto Akaashi’s face. “My bad, I must apologize for my behaviour. It appears that my intent may not have come across as I had wanted it to.”

However, his heartfelt apology only serves to make Bokuto groan louder. “Don’t be so serious all the time! You’re giving me goosebumps with the way you’re talking, jeez.” 

Chuckling into his hand, Akaashi watches his companion with an amused expression. Bokuto’s face is still beet red, the feathers on his lower body fluffed up in what might be embarrassment, and his eyes peek out between his fingers. Still laughing quietly, he draws his partner’s hands away from his face, kissing the tips of his fingers one by one. “I’m sorry.”

It seems to show the desired effect. Bokuto’s put on a pouting face, lower lip sticking out childishly. “Oh yeah? Because you don’t sound sorry at all, Keiji. But…” he pauses, tapping his fingers against his lip. “Y’know what would make it better?”

A rhetorical question. Of course Akaashi knows what Bokuto wants. Still, he decides to humour him anyway. “Well, what would make it better?”

Almost immediately, Bokuto’s pouting face is gone, replaced with an ecstatic one. “Well, will you perhaps… sing for me, one last time?”

“You stole that out of some game of yours, didn’t you?” He leans back on his hands, basking in the weak light of the sun that warms his face, even in this rather gloomy day in November. Bokuto doesn’t try to deny it, so he’s pretty sure it’s true. “If you don’t phrase it that dramatically next time, then the answer is yes, I will sing for you.”

Bokuto claps his hands together, leaning forward, his eyes never leaving Akaashi. If he didn’t know any better, he’d feel like prey.

Akaashi clears his throat, when a thought strikes him. “Will you- sing with me, Koutarou? This one time? You know the song.”

His partners face is nothing but loving, when he nods, admiration clear in his eyes. Sometimes it scares him how much power he has over the other. “Of course, Keiji. Everything for you.”

  
_When came his time of dying,  
The towns in his land he told,  
Nought else to his heir denying  
Except the goblet of gold.  
  
He sat at the royal banquet  
With his knights of high degree,  
In the lofty hall of his fathers  
In the castle by the sea.  
  
There stood the old carouser,  
And drank the last life-glow;  
And hurled the hallowed goblet  
Into the tide below.  
  
He saw it plunging and filling,  
And sinking deep in the sea:  
Then fell his eyelids for ever,  
And never more drank he!_

It's truly a tale of undying love, and more often than not, Akaashi finds himself missing that kind of thing. Or well, he did, until Bokuto came along. Bokuto, who’d stolen his heart after just a few hours of meeting him, Bokuto who’d protected him against everything that they’d faced.

Next to him, Bokuto sighs. “Did I ever tell you that I really love your voice, Keiji?”

Inclining his head to one side, Akaashi fiddles with the golden hem of his gown. “You always do, Koutarou. You always do.”

Bokuto looks at him with a certain type of fondness that always astonishes him, will always astonish him; the earnestness in his eyes, the sincerity of his smile, everything is just so genuine. “Because it’s true! You have the most beautiful voice of all, really!”

It’s flattering, honestly. However, … “You only say that because you’ve never heard the others, Koutarou. There are far better creatures out there at sea than me. You just have to know where to look for them.”

Grinning, always grinning, Bokuto grabs his hand, enclosing it in both of his own. Akaashi notices every time that his own hands are bigger than Bokuto’s. “Why should I look for someone else when I have you?”

He shrugs a little, fiddling with his fingers. “There always are other fish in the sea.” It doesn’t really answer the question, he knows that, yet…

Bokuto’s hands squeeze his own, engulfing them in warmth and what feels like literal sunshine. “I don’t like fish all that much,” he answers honestly, his eyes wide.

Shaking his head _(not in exasperation or annoyance, though),_ he snickers a little. “It was merely an idiom, Koutarou. Please don’t take it to heart.” The rock they’re sitting on is rough against his smooth skin, and he starts to miss the wetness of the water, the adrenaline that hunting gives him, everything about the sea. Subconsciously, he nears the edge of the rock, until the soles of his feet are on the surface of the sea once again. The waves tickle against them, caressing him softly, lovingly.

Meanwhile, he is being watched. Bokuto’s gaze is on him, and him alone, watching his every movement. When Akaashi had begun crawling closer to the edge, Bokuto had followed him, careful not to slip on the wet rock. “Do you want to go swimming?” He asks quietly, and Akaashi nods without having to think twice, his dark hair swaying in the breeze. Bokuto’s eyes are kind, and understanding. “D’you want me to come with you?” 

Akaashi launches into shaking his head to show Bokuto that he wouldn’t have to, but something hinders him, whispering into his ear. “I’ve never seen you swim before. Can you even swim?”

Contorting his face, Bokuto shrugs. “I do it from time to time to clean my feathers like any other bird, but I don’t really like it that much.”

Sighing a little, Akaashi fiddles with his hands, cocking his head to the side. “If you don’t like it, then why would you propose it?” He knows the answer; it’s not especially hard to guess the reason, after all.

Bokuto’s grin spreads over his entire face, and not even the warmth of the sun can compare to it, can’t warm him from the inside like that smile does. “Because I like being with you, of course.” It sounds so natural when he says it, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which it isn’t.

“You shouldn’t have to. If you don’t mind, you can wait here. It won’t take more than a few minutes.” He doesn’t want Bokuto to do anything that the other doesn’t want to do. At first, it looks like his companion is going to argue with him, but after a few beats of silence in which they both stare at each other, he nods.

“Alright, then. I’ll wait here for you.” He, too, crawls closer to the edge, plopping down and watching the waves hit the rock. “Just come back soon, alright? And take care.”

He doesn’t even have to ask.

Pressing a chaste kiss to Bokuto’s cheek, he lets himself glide into the cold water, his robes billowing out around him like a silvery cloud, the gold shimmering in the dim light of the sun, peeking out behind clouds. The current isn’t too strong here, nothing more than a light tugging at his body and clothes that seems to show him the direction in which he needs to go.

The world beneath the surface is his home, as is the world above. He has no fixed place where he ultimately belongs; neither sea nor land are his, and he fluctuates between them with such ease that it sometimes scares him, makes him feel as if he belongs nowhere. 

The murmur of the ocean is nothing but a soft melody in his ears, susurrant and nothing more than a whisper. The cool water feels good on his skin, reminiscent of all the nights he’d spent beneath the silver light of the moon, the waves lulling him to sleep.

It isn’t especially deep this close to the coast, but there still are a few metres between the surface and the sandy ground of the sea. Enough space to relax, enough space to hunt if necessary.

With his human appearance, he might not be as fast as his more aquatic conspecifics, but he’s still faster than the average human as well as many type of fish. Hunting has never been a problem for him, and it definitely isn’t one now.

Freezing in place, he waits. It doesn’t take a very long time until something appears in his peripheral vision, a dark shadow in the even darker sea. It’s a small fish, but it’s more than enough for him alone.

Darting towards the unlucky creature, he catches it with his hands, watching as it tries to free itself from his grip, wriggling and twitching. Its scales are slimy, making it hard to hold on to, but Akaashi’s been doing this for a long time, he’s used to small animals trying to break free.

Digging his nails into the fish, he raises it to his mouth and a quick bite in the place where its head meets its body makes it stop moving for good. Humming a little, the sound reverberating around him, he disconnects its fins from its main body, as well as the head. Its lifeless eyes stare at him, blind and milky.

It tastes like… well, what fish usually tastes like. A little bitter and salty, maybe, but fresh and clean nonetheless. Spitting out the fish bones one by one _(technically he could eat them; however, that doesn’t mean that he likes them)_ he eats the small creature, a small cloud of blood spreading around him, disappearing as fast as it had appeared.

When he’s done, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, sighing a little. He’s left Bokuto waiting for way too long. Propelling himself upwards, his head is the first thing to pierce the calm surface, the light of the day blinding him for a second until his eyes adjust to it again. He shakes his head a little to get rid of the excess water.

Well above him, seated on a dark grey rock, is Bokuto, clapping and fluffing up his feathers. “Was wondering when you’d come back up! Nice performance, ten outta ten would watch again!”

Akaashi shields his face with his hands, groaning quietly into them. “What the fuck.”

Bokuto merely grins at him, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Sorry, got overexcited there for a second.” His smile is anything but bashful.

Still shaking his head _(this time for a different reason, though)_ he heaves himself up on the rock with tired muscles, fingers finding small rills and ledges to keep him from falling down again. Akaashi’s not a good climber, but he knows that rock like he knows the waters around Tokyo. And even if that wasn’t the case, Bokuto is reaching out to him, extending his hand to help him up.

With a grateful nod, he accepts the hand and lets the other assist him. Once he’s in his usual spot again, Bokuto doesn’t let go of his hand, instead choosing to pull him closer to his own body, his arms wrapped around Akaashi’s smaller frame.

The other shudders a bit when Akaashi’s cold, wet skin comes into contact with his own, but he doesn’t pull away, and neither does he complain. His feathers tickle where they meet his body, but it’s not an uncomfortable feeling. He yawns, leaning into Bokuto’s touch.

Laughing quietly, Bokuto strokes his hair. “Are you tired already? What’s up with you today, Keiji?” It doesn’t sound accusatory. It never does.

Nevertheless, he nods a little, his face now resting against Bokuto’s chest. “I’m sorry for being such a killjoy today. Would you mind if I slept a little?”

Again, Bokuto’s chuckle, rumbling in his chest and making his head swim. “You never are one. And of course not, sleep as much as you want. We can talk later.”

His eyelids feel unusually heavy, and his consciousness is slowly fading. Wrapping his own arms loosely around his companion, he drifts off.

* * *

_Akaashi Keiji was a liar. With narrowed eyes, he looked down at the golden goblet in his hands, shimmering in the dim light of dawn._

_The cliff was steep, its walls too high, too smooth. He had always loved being out here by the sea, even if it brought a certain kind of loneliness with it as the winds whipped around him, tearing at his clothes and ruffling his hair with kind fingers._

_Looking back to where he came from, a figure in the distance caught his attention. The…_ creature _was far away, nothing more than a dot in existence._

 _He swallowed heavily, turning the goblet over in his hands and glancing at his own reflection. Whatever the_ man _saw in him, he didn’t see it, could never see it. He was nothing special, nothing more than a pretty face with a wretched soul, bringing misfortune to everyone who dared to love him._

_A light drizzle accompanied his sour mood, making his dark hair stick to his face. The robes on his body looked dirty, a matte grey. Nothing to be desired, nothing like a child of the ocean. He wanted to go back there._

_"My erômenos_ _," the man spoke to him in that sweet tone of his, never even once raising his voice. Akaashi didn’t know when he’d arrived. He smiled at him with that certain glint in his eyes. "Come back to the castle with me, my love. It’s getting cold out here, and we don’t want for you to catch a cold."_

_Akaashi looked back, calmer than ever before and still holding the solid goblet. His knuckles turned whiter. "I don’t know. Will you stay with me, then?" It sounded timid and hesitant, so unlike him._

_They looked at each other with feelings neither of them could name. Well, at least Akaashi couldn’t. The man was, as always, unreadable, eyes like the moon. He crouched down, grabbing Akaashi’s chin and tipping his head back._

_He studied the man’s dark eyes, way too close. Eventually, he took a deep breath. “Alright. I will come back to the castle with you,” he finally gave in, inclining his head a little so his eyes could stare at the ground._

_If the man could look happy, it definitely would look like this. The corners of his mouth lifted up in what he assumed should have been a kind smile._

_Above the churning sea on this simple day in November, Akaashi could hear the man’s body shatter into a million pieces._

_The golden goblet shone in his hands, a single light in the darkness of the storm, until it wasn’t in his hands anymore._

* * *

He opens his eyes, slowly.

The light isn’t as blinding as before; more clouds have started accumulating in the sky, shutting the sun out. Bokuto’s warm arms are still wrapped securely around his upper body, and when he cranes his head back to look at his companion, Bokuto is watching the clouds with a contended expression.

Akaashi clears his throat, grabbing Bokuto’s attention. “You awake?” The other hums, running his calloused fingers across Akashi’s almost white, unmarred skin.

“Mhm,” he mumbles, sleep still clinging to his words, coating them like honey, just as sticky. Whenever he dreams, he just pretends that it had never happened in the first place.

It’s not good to dwell on a dream; Akaashi knows as much.

Bokuto chuckles, not suspecting anything. Why would he, after all? “You slept for quite a while there, didn’t ya? Was afraid you wouldn’t wake up again.” It’s a joke, nothing more than a joke.

So Akaashi laughs along, a little strained. “Don’t worry, Koutarou.” He doesn’t elaborate, instead hoping that Bokuto understands what he means.

“I’m not worried when you’re with me,” the other replies cheerfully, kind eyes staring down at Akaashi as he squeezes his companion a little tighter. Dark clouds mar the sky, the roll of thunder in the distance. A storm is brewing in the middle of November. Bokuto knows that as well. “Will you stay with me?”

Sometimes, Akaashi misses his golden goblet. Other times, he wishes for it to stay down there forever, merely another secret that he shares only with the sea. He doesn’t need it, now that he has Bokuto.

“Until eternity, Koutarou,” he promises.

Until the world meets its ruin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the journey as well! 
> 
> The ballad I used was "The King in Thule" by J.W. Goethe - [here's](https://youtu.be/7-44E5AnCVw) a link to a German version that I kind of liked even though the audio quality isn't that good. I think it's important to listen to songs and stuff in their original language, even if you don't understand it. 
> 
> also, this is a homage to the story where i let akaashi, like, die, and so i wanted to make this one happy for him but i think he still comes across as sad, so... yeah. 
> 
> i wonder if anyone can guess each and every creature I described in this work oof
> 
> I'm all out of stories ideas, so I guess i'll... idk, either disappear from the face of the earth or accept requests. Everyone seems to do it through tumblr, but idfw that, so you can find me on instagram (@krysicism) or on dreamwidth (same name as here)


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